


I Will Grow You A Garden

by missmichellebelle



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Gardener!Blaine, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-18
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-11-12 21:47:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 35,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/495983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmichellebelle/pseuds/missmichellebelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was supposed to be the one thing standing between Kurt and New York, but suddenly that summer was all about a gardener.</p><p>
  <b>THIS WORK IS UNFINISHED. IT HAS BEEN DISCONTINUED.</b>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

When the truck pulls up in front of the house, Kurt is immediately on the defensive.

It’s not a car he recognizes, which is a bad sign. There’s no sort of catchy slogan on the side, no phone number, and nothing to signify that it’s some sort of utility vehicle. He stands at the front window, almost entirely hidden by the old, heavy drape he has gripped in his hand, and watches the truck suspiciously.

“Hey dad?” He calls behind him, still watching. He hears Burt’s grunt of acknowledgement and rolls his eyes. “Are you expecting anyone?”

”Oh, yeah, actually.”

Kurt hears the familiar sound of the TV zapping off, and looks over his shoulder to see his dad standing.

“Must be important if you’re getting out of your chair on a Saturday afternoon,” Kurt jokes, turning away from the window and resisting the urge to spy on his dad’s guest.

“Hey now, I’ll be sitting again in no time. It’s just our new gardener,” Burt says with a dismissive wave of his hand, and Kurt’s eyebrows furrow instantly.

“Dad, you know we can’t aff—”

“Calm down, buddy. I know. It’s just a kid from town looking for summer work.”

Kurt’s eyes widen and he turns towards the window again. A kid from town? For a brief moment, Kurt hopes his dad really  _means_ kid when he says it, but it’s probably unrealistic to except a 12-year-old to hop out from behind the wheel.

“Please don’t be a jock, please don’t be a jock,” he murmurs, watching. He hears the front door open and close and moments later he can see Burt walking down the front path, waving his hand to wave at someone that Kurt  _can’t see and it’s absolutely nerve-wracking_.

Moments later, a boy with a head of barely-tamed curls appears by the hood of the car and Kurt breathes a sigh of relief. Not a jock. But, on closer inspection, Kurt realizes he doesn’t recognize their new gardener at  _all_. He’s not exactly an expert on all the students at McKinley, but he can at least recognize most of them.

But this boy is a stranger.

Kurt allows himself to look at the tanned color of his skin, the strength visible in his bared arms, the way his face lights of when he smiles. But that’s it—he’s too far away and Kurt can’t really imagine moving closer to inspect some _stranger._ Kurt leans out of the curtains some more, watching the stranger shake his dad’s hand and nods and looks insanely enthusiastic about mowing their front lawn. It makes Kurt smile.

All too suddenly, his dad gestures back towards the house and the stranger looks up. For a moment, just a moment, his eyes meet Kurt’s and Kurt feels like his muscles lock up. He jerks away, nearly falling backwards as he hides behind the curtain and gets his legs tangled in the fabric.

“Just what I need,” he says, pressing his hand to his heart as it tries to beat out of his chest. “The new gardener thinking his employer’s son is a total stalker.”

The front door slams closed and Kurt nearly falls again, turning to watch as his dad trudges back into the living room. Kurt fiddles with his fingers as Burt sits back down and turns the TV back on, settling down for a long afternoon of Pawn Stars.

“So how did it go?” Kurt asks, his voice coming out a bit higher than it normally does.

“Good. Kid’s real polite.” Burt adjusts his cap before glancing up at Kurt. “He’ll be coming ‘round on Wednesdays from now on and I told him if he had any questions, you’d be here. Sound alright?”

“Yeah,  _yeah_ , fine, of course.” Just him and the mystery, attractive gardener that he is not going to creepily watch through the living room window.


	2. Chapter 2

Wednesdays are just another day of the week.

Kurt keeps telling himself that as he spends an extra hour picking out his outfit, then changes three times, and then spends a ridiculous amount of time cleaning the living room.

It’s just after noon when he’s wondering whether or not he should wash his car (not for any ulterior motive, of course, his car simply needs washing) that there’s a knock on the door.

Burt hadn’t said anything about the gardener actually knocking on the door, and so when Kurt answers it he isn’t expecting tanned skin and the prettiest brown eyes he’s ever seen.

He also suddenly uses the ability to speak.

“You must be Burt’s son.”

_Oh god his voice_ .

He holds out his hand.

“I’m Blaine.”

Kurt really wants to wipe his hand on his jeans, but he’s also pretty sure the action would be incredibly ostentatious. Instead, he hopes to  _god_ that his hands aren’t as sweaty as they feel, and grasps Blaine’s hand with his own.

“Kurt.”

Blaine smiles and Kurt is pretty sure he turns into a puddle right in the doorway. He chances a glance down and—nope, still completely solid.

“Well Kurt.”

He focuses on Blaine again. On the pleasant shape of his lips and the length of his eyelashes and the hint of a collarbone through the material of his t-shirt—

“I just didn’t want to start mowing your lawn without saying anything first, but it’s nice to meet you. So I hate to be rude, but.”

His smile is so  _easy_ that it makes Kurt want to smile  _forever_.

“No, no, go right ahead. That’s what we’re paying you for, after all.” Wow, he did  _not_ just say that.  _Stop flirting with the attractive, probably straight, really really really attractive gardener_ .  _Or learn to flirt at least!_

“That’s true. Lawns don’t cut themselves.”

“Which is good news for you, or else you’d be out of a job.”

Blaine laughs and, okay, Kurt is in love with him.

“I think I’ll be out of a job either way, if I don’t actually do it.” Blaine smiles at him again, a hint of something in the way his lips are quirked and  _oh dear god he is looking at me through his eyelashes_.

“Right well… Have fun!” What exactly is the sentiment when you send someone to mow your lawn? Don’t lose a foot? Because  _that’s_ romantic.

“I’ll try my best.” Blaine gives one last smile and a bow of his head and then is turned around and Kurt  _is not_ checking out his ass, that would be so  _inappropriate_ (but, if he must say,  _oh my good god_ ).

“If you need anything,” Kurt is suddenly calling, and Blaine is glancing back over his shoulder, eyebrows raised, “just let me know. Water, snacks, a-anything.” He hopes he can play off his blushing as heatstroke or something.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Kurt wonders if Blaine knows he sort of sways his hips when he walks. It’s like he’s  _asking_ people to check out his ass.


	3. Chapter 3

“ _ThereisareallyhotguyinmyfrontyardwhatdoIdo?!_ ”

There’s silence on the other end of the phone and  _doesn’t Rachel know this is an emergency?_

“I’m sorry, but could you try saying that again? Maybe with breathing this time?”

”Okay, okay.” Kurt grips his hand tightly in his phone, rocking back and forth on the couch and not going to peer out the window, he is  _not_ going to peer out the window, he is  _not_ a creep. “There is a  _really_ hot guy—”

“There are hot guys in your neighborhood?” Rachel asks, suddenly extremely invested in their conversation. Kurt rolls his eyes.

“Rachel. Finn. Can I get back to my story now?” She  _hmphs_ at the other end of the line. “And no, he doesn’t live in my neighborhood, my dad hired him.”

“Like… A prostitute?”

“No, Rachel!” Kurt cries as quietly as possible, mortified. “Like a gardener!”

“That is so unfair. My daddies hired a gardener a few months ago and he’s  _old_ , Kurt. Wait, how old is your’s?”

“Our age? Probably? Maybe even younger. Unless he’s one of those guys that just looks really young forever.”

“Like Elijah Wood?”

“Rachel, focus.”

“Sorry.” He hears her tapping a nail against something. “So what exactly do you need my help with?”

“ _I don’t know what to do_ ,” he hisses.

“Well, is he gay?”

“I—”  _Shit_. Kurt has no idea. “I… Have no clue.”

“Kurt—”

“I’m not going down that road again, Rachel Berry, okay? He’s just… He’s  _really pretty_.” Kurt’s eyes drift over to the window and he  _really_ wants to look.

“Wow, you’re just a smitten kitten already, aren’t you?”

“…did you just use the phrase smitten kitten?”

“Anyways, until you find out which team he plays for, you should probably keep your ogling at a minimum. If he is straight, he might scare easily, and then you’re depriving yourself a summer’s worth of eye-candy.”

“What?”

“It’s not a crime to  _look_ , Kurt. Now…” He hears a soft thump and can imagine Rachel lying on her bed. “How pretty are we talking here? Pretty the way you’re pretty or like… Orlando Bloom pretty?”

“Um, neither?” Kurt laughs, standing up. He takes measured steps towards the window, pausing by the curtains. He’s just… Opening them, that’s all, to let a little light in. Totally innocent. “He’s shorter than I am, tanned skin, dark, curly hair, and his  _eyes_ , Rachel, I—”

The fabric slips between his fingers and he swallows heavily, once, twice, three times.

“Kurt?”

“ _Hetookhisshirtoff_ ,” he mumbles, his voice strangled.

“Huh?”

“He. Took. His. Shirt. Off.” Oh, wow, is this what fainting feels like? Kurt is suddenly aware of the lack of oxygen getting to his brain.

“He _what?!_ Why are you still on the phone with me?! Go offer him a cold beverage or something!”

“Ra—”

“Call me later!”  _CLICK_.

He pulls the phone away and swallows, looking at it, and then up again.

He better find a cold beverage.


	4. Chapter 4

The moment Kurt is closing the door behind him he knows he’s making a mistake. Is he  _really_ taking lemonade out to the gardener? What is he, a Desperate Housewife?

_Although if I had to pick one, Eva Longoria isn’t a bad comparison_ .

Of course, the problem with diving in to a situation headfirst is that there usually isn’t a way out of it. Kurt could easily turn around and slip back inside, forget this whole crazy thing had ever happened, and go about his day as normally as possible. The one and only thing preventing Kurt from doing this is that, now that he’s outside, Blaine is in full, glorious view and it is physically impossible to  _stop looking_.

It takes a few moments to register just how hot it is, and Kurt is immediately regretting the skinny jeans he’s wearing. The heat is positively  _suffocating_ and it’s no wonder Blaine took his shirt off. Kurt can’t even imagine doing manual labor in this sort of weather.

But he’s certainly glad that Blaine can, and does, and Kurt wonders where he should send his thank you card.

He hangs back by the front step for a few moments, watching the way Blaine’s arms flex as he pushes the lawn mower across their front yard. His hair is even curlier than it was before, and every delicious inch of exposed skin is shining with sweat. Normally, Kurt would find this repulsive; sweat is disgusting and if he could rid himself of all it’s unfortunate side effects, he would.

Sweat covering Blaine, on the other hand, makes Kurt’s mouth go dry and he’s overcome with the urge to chase each bead of perspiration with his tongue.

_Did I just have the urge to lick sweat off of Blaine?_

That doesn’t feel normal.

The sound of the mower cuts suddenly and Kurt blinks back into himself just in time to see that he’s been caught ogling.  _Fuck fuck fuck not good_.

But instead of looking disturbed or repulsed, Blaine just lifts an arm— _oh god I want to touch it_ —and waves at Kurt.

“Hey there,” he calls, running the back of his hand over his forehead and  _that should not be as sexy as it is_. Blaine waves Kurt over and Kurt’s legs seem to go into motion without any conscious thought. “I hope that’s for me,” Blaine says with a hopeful smile when Kurt gets closer.

“What?” Kurt asks, before he remembers that he actually came outside with a purpose. Blaine’s lips quirk, turning his smile into a grin. “Oh,  _oh_ , the lemonade, yes, this is for you.” Kurt’s hands flex around the glass and Blaine watches him with amusement for a few moments.

“…were you going to give it to me?” He asks, a hint of laughter in his voice, and Kurt can feel himself blush.

“Yes, sorry, here,” Kurt says in a rush, pushing the glass forward. Blaine chuckles, and for just a second, their fingers brush. Blaine’s are rough—probably from yard work—and warm and slightly sweaty as they take the glass from Kurt’s hand, and Kurt  _swears_ they linger.

But then again, Kurt has always been good at seeing things that were never truly there.

“Thanks, by the way.” Blaine lifts the cup to his lifts and how is Kurt not supposed to watch the way his lips part or the bob of his Adam’s apple?

_No, watching him from the window is about a hundred times less creepy than watching him from two feet away._

“You’re welcome.” Kurt’s voice comes out a little breathless, and he swallows to rid himself of the return of his dry mouth. “It’s just… Really hot out, I figured you could use something refreshing.” Kurt gestures towards the lemonade.

“Yeah, it is. I’m glad I wore shorts, but you’re looking pretty hot in those jeans.”

There’s a beat of silence and then Blaine’s eyes widen as he realizes what he’s said and he… _He blushes?!_

“I-I mean…” He stammers, and Kurt feels a thrill up his spine.

“I am,” Kurt blurts out, and Blaine blinks at him in surprise.  _How to make a conversation more awkward without really trying…_ “Hot, in these pants. I wasn’t thinking about the weather when I was planning my outfit this morning.”

“Oh.” Blaine glances away and sips his lemonade again and Kurt sort of wants to run the lawn mower over his own face.

“So, um, gardening?”

It gets Blaine to laugh, at least.

“For the summer. It’s not like my life’s passion or something.”

Wow, Blaine’s eyes are  _really_ pretty in the sunlight.

“I’m just trying to save up some extra money, plus it gets me out of the house.”

Kurt watches the way Blaine’s muscles shift as he shrugs his shoulders.

“What are you saving for?” Kurt asks, trying not to fidget under the way he can feel the sun heating and frying his skin.  _A little sunburn is so, so, so worth it_.

“I’m moving to New York in the fall,” Blaine beams, as if it’s the best thing in the world he’s ever told anyone.

It’s certainly the best news Kurt’s ever heard.

“Me too!” He blurts out before he has time to think about it, and Blaine’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“Well, isn’t that a pleasant surprise.”

 _Pleasant_. He thinks the fact that Kurt is also moving to New York is  _pleasant_.

“Yeah,” Kurt says with a bit of a sigh and he knows he should go back inside, that the dreamy smile on his face is beyond see-through.

“Well, maybe I’ll see you around the city, Kurt Hummel. It’d certainly be nice to see a familiar face.”

Blaine wants Kurt to be a  _familiar face_.

“Uh-huh.”

_Seriously, go inside now_ .

“I should get back to work, but thanks again for the lemonade.” Blaine hands Kurt the glass back and  _wow_ , Kurt hadn’t even seen him drink all of it.

“Of course. If you need anything else, you know where to find me.” Kurt makes an awkward motion back towards the house and Blaine gives him an adorable little salute.

Kurt is a few steps away when he turns back around, watching as Blaine nearly loses his balance because he jerks away from the lawn mower so quickly.  _Weird_.

“And Blaine?” Kurt says, resisting the urge to scuff his foot against the pavement. “If you wanted to come in and take a break or something, you’re… More than welcome.”

_Oh god, that was too much. Stupid, stupid, stupid_ .

But Blaine just leans down on the handle of the lawn mower and smiles back at him.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”


	5. Chapter 5

Blaine doesn’t take Kurt up on his offer that Wednesday, leaving Kurt to wonder if it’s because Blaine left about a half hour after their conversation or because Kurt was  _way_ too obvious about his crush.

Probably the second one.

Kurt suspects that Blaine will call in a few days and make up some excuse to stop being their gardener.

”That kid did a good job,” Burt says over dinner that night.

“Burt, I would have—”

“Finn, I already said it’s fine. You’re helping out at the shop. Besides, paying to fix that old monster in the garage would probably cost more than having someone else mow our lawn.”

Which Kurt is thankful for, because he’d really rather not feel guilty about not offering to mow the lawn. Him and Burt had decided long ago that Kurt really didn’t mesh well with yard work.

“But I was thinking I might ask him to do the back, too. Carole wants to do something for the Fourth and it’d be nice to have a barbecue.”

“That sounds awesome.” Finn begins to talk enthusiastically with Burt about food options while Kurt chases a pea around his dinner plate. Blaine doing their backyard means _more Blaine_.

Kurt can’t decide if he’s incredibly excited or insanely nervous.

The good news, in the end, is that Blaine doesn’t run for the hills and also agrees to start grooming their backyard. Kurt has no idea what this “grooming” entails, but it sounds important and very,  _very_ time consuming.

The absolute best news, however, is that there is a very convenient hammock located in the backyard that Kurt hasn’t been within a three-foot radius of since they moved into the house. It’s the best news, of course, because it gives Kurt the perfect excuse to be outside while Blaine is working.

It’s quite genius, really.

So when Wednesday rolls around and there’s a knock at the door, Kurt tries to remember that he’s supposed to look like he’s ready to spend a lazy afternoon reading in the backyard. His outfit is just this side of lazy summer that it’s probably impossible to tell that he spent an hour picking it out.

“Hello, Blaine,” he greets brightly. A little  _too_ brightly, in fact, and he mentally reminds himself to  _tone it the fuck down_.

“Hello to you, too, Kurt.” Blaine doesn’t seem put-out by Kurt’s overly friendly greeting and, in fact, seems to revel in it. “I just wanted to let you know I was going to start in the front first and then start working in the back?”

“Okay, that sounds good. There’s a gate on the side of the house you can use,” Kurt says, gesturing in the gate’s general direction. He’s never used it, but it should be sufficient enough to let Blaine pull his mower around to the backyard.

“Sounds good.” Blaine nods and turns to step back down the path.

“I—” Kurt starts and Blaine pauses, looking back at him with expectant eyebrows. “I’ll be in the backyard reading, if you need anything.”

“Roger that.” This time, Blaine does begin his way back down the path. Halfway towards the lawn, he turns and doesn’t show a lick of surprise at the fact that Kurt is still standing there with the door open.

“I see you wore shorts today!” He calls, and Kurt flushes, looking down and suddenly very self conscious of his bared legs. “They look good!”

_Oh please god let him be gay_ .


	6. Chapter 6

The problem with the hammock, Kurt thinks in hindsight, is that he has absolutely  _no idea_ how to get into it. There’s a reason he’s never been near it and it probably has to do with avoiding his imminent death. But it’s the only spot in the backyard that provides both a place to read (or watch Blaine while he’s working, whatever) and a decent amount of shade. Blaine is nice to look at but it’s certainly not worth shriveling up into a dry, red raisin.

Probably.

He briefly debates Googling “how to safely get into a hammock,” but the thought of Blaine popping up behind him and seeing him is mortifying enough to put that idea entirely from Kurt’s mind. Never mind how Blaine would know what Kurt was doing, it’s still mortifying.

He sets down his stack of magazines and the armful of water bottles he’d been carrying. Not because he thinks he’ll drink six water bottles, although he does dehydrate easily, but because maybe Blaine will want one. Maybe Blaine will open one and pour it all over himself because of the heat.

After all, anything is possible.

There are two ways that Kurt can approach this whole situation. He can either do it slowly and carefully, or he can go for it and hope for the best. Slowly sounds like the safer option.

He eyes the hammock with every ounce of apprehension he feels, stopping near the edge and lifting his leg in. Okay, okay, he can totally do this. So far so good. Just the other leg—

“Fuck!” The hammock flips and Kurt lands on his back below it, hissing as what feels like a branch tries to impale him.

“Kurt?”

_You have_ **_got_ ** _to be kidding me_ .

Kurt closes his eyes and wishes that the fall just made him hallucinate and that Blaine wasn’t calling his name. That he will open his eyes and Blaine will not be standing over him and all of his embarrassment.

Unfortunately, Blaine is very, very there.

“Are you okay?” Blaine’s eyebrows are curved into distress and Kurt resists the urge to turn around and try to burrow into the ground.

“I’m fine, just…” He shakes his head, sitting up, and is surprised when a strong hand grasps his arm. Kurt looks at it, following it up until he sees Blaine crouched beside him.

“Here, let me help you.”

Kurt certainly lets him. Blaine might be shorter than him, but he’s strong, and Kurt has the urge to just fall into his arms and see if Blaine will catch him. Which might just be the possible concussion talking.

“I’m surprised you heard me,” Kurt mumbles, brushing dirt from his shorts and shirt and— _ugh_ —his  _hair_.

“You’re louder than you think you are. I’m pretty sure I saw a mother across the street, covering her child’s ears and scurrying away.”

Kurt pales, looking at Blaine with wide eyes, and Blaine laughs.

“I’m kidding, I’m  _kidding_. I think it was just me and this sleeping cat, but I’ll be sure to apologize to him later.”

Kurt tries not to moon. He’s not even that big of an animal person, and yet Blaine is standing here and acting like apologizing to a cat is perfectly normal.  _He is too adorable to be real_.

“So, I’m going to take a guess and say you fell out of your hammock? Rocking yourself a little too hard there?”

Kurt huffs out a laugh and shakes his head.

“More like I’ve never been in a hammock in my life and most likely did exactly what I wasn’t supposed to.” Kurt’s eyebrows raise in surprise as soon as he’s said it, worry instantly flitting through him as he searches for signs of judgment or ridicule in Blaine’s gaze.

He doesn’t find any.

“Legs first?” Blaine guesses, and Kurt laughs.

“That obvious?”

“Rookie mistake.” Blaine grins. “Here, I’ll help you. We’ll call it a fair trade for the lemonade the other day.” Kurt begins to protest, because that lemonade was a kind gesture (and a way to see Blaine up close and shirtless), but then Blaine is grabbing him by the shoulders and steering him back towards the hammock.

“I don’t know, I’m pretty sure that thing is a death trap.”

“Are you always this dramatic?”

“Are you always this man-handly?”  _Man-handly? Way to make up words_.

Blaine’s hands immediately disappear and his eyes open so large it reminds Kurt of pitiful baby animals.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

“Blaine, I’m  _kidding_ .”  _Seriously, manhandle me all you want_ .

Relief rocks through Blaine, the tension disappearing from his face and shoulders and then he’s setting his hands on Kurt’s shoulders again (his grip is gentler, Kurt notices).

“Okay, so you’re just going to sit down on the edge—”

“I’m going to  _die_.”

“You are  _not_. I’d never let that happen.”

Oh, okay. Kurt’s pretty sure his face is entirely pink, but Blaine doesn’t seem to notice as he guides Kurt into a sitting position.

“Okay, now spread the hammock out behind you—Don’t worry, I’ve got you. Good, just like that. And lay back. Good. Now just bring your legs up and—There you go!” Blaine claps his hands together as Kurt is fully on the hammock and… Not dying or falling or embarrassing himself, which is good.

“You could teach a class,” Kurt says with a laugh, shifting around slowly. Blaine grabs at the hammock, keeping it from rocking too much as Kurt positions himself within reaching distance of his supplies.

“Been seriously considering it, actually. Could I count on you as a character reference?”

“Oh, definitely.”  _You could count on me for_ **_anything_ ** _._

“Good to know.” Blaine gives him another one of those easy, lazy grins. “Anyways, I should be heading back to work now. I’ll see you in a little bit?” Blaine looks so hopeful it makes Kurt’s heart  _stop_.

“Yeah. You know where to find me.” Kurt smiles tentatively and Blaine nods.

“That I do.” He gives a little wave and then turns, and Kurt really needs to start remembering things before Blaine starts walking away.

“Wow, I hate to keep calling after you like this, but catch!” Kurt picks up a water and throws it. Blaine turns in surprise and reaches for it, fumbling slightly before he clutches it against his chest.

“Thanks. Just what I need.” Blaine rubs the cold water bottle against his forehead and Kurt can’t help but think  _pour it over yourself pour it over yourself_ on obnoxious repeat.

“But you know, this means I owe you something now.”

Kurt wonders exactly what kind of things he can cash a water bottle in for.


	7. Chapter 7

Despite the fact that it made an attempt on his life, Kurt finds he quite likes the hammock. He can rock it gently with a few body movements and he’s warm without being over heated or at risk of burning. It’s like he finally understand why people like to go outside in the summer so much.

He flips lazily through his newest issue of Vogue, a water bottle cuddled against his waist as he reads about Emma Stone’s glamorous transformation. Kurt almost forgets that he ventured outside for a legitimate reason.

Almost.

The clanging of the gate announces Blaine’s impending arrival, and Kurt quickly adjusts his shirt, hair, and glasses. By the time Blaine is pulling his lawn mower into view around the side of the house, Kurt is looking completely unruffled by the elements and still perusing his magazine.

“I am ridiculously jealous right now,” Blaine says from across the yard, and Kurt peeks at him over the rim of his glasses. Still clothed, unfortunately, but if the amount of sweat on his shirt says anything it’s that  _Blaine needs to take his shirt off_.

“You’re the one getting paid, not me,” Kurt counters, but he stretches in the shade rather obviously and is rewarded with Blaine’s laughter.

“Fair enough. Mind if I snag another water bottle off you?”

There are still four sitting in the grass, not nearly as cold as they had been, so Kurt reaches down to pluck one up.

“You know I’m perfectly capable of getting it myself, right?”

“Yes, but it’s so much more fun to see you try and catch it.”

But Blaine is ready for it this time, jogging back a few steps before reaching up to snatch it out of the air. Kurt lets out a low whistle.

“Impressive.”

Blaine does an elaborate bow and Kurt takes the opportunity to chuck another water bottle at him. It hits him square in the stomach and drops to the ground while Blaine grabs around his middle.

“Oh, oh my god, I am  _so_ sorry.”

Blaine’s shoulders are shaking and  _fuck fuck fuck please don’t be crying_ .

But then Blaine is glancing up, face scrunched in amusement. “I’m fine. You just got the drop on me. And winded me.” Blaine picks up the water bottle, spinning it in his hand. “But I’m confiscating this as punishment.”

“Oh no. Not the water bottle. Whatever will I do,” Kurt responds in monotone and Blaine laughs again before brandishing at him.

“Watch it. I’m warning you.”

Kurt holds up his hands in surrender and smiles before picking up his magazine again. It takes Kurt a few moments before it dawns on him just how  _easy_ his conversations with Blaine are. It’s not like Kurt doesn’t have  _friends_ , he does, but it usually takes longer than a week of almost no communication for him to warm up to the idea of a friendship.

Then again, is it friendship or flirty banter? He should probably try to figure that out.

He glances up from his magazine, seeing that Blaine has already downed one of the water bottles and is working on the second one. Kurt wonders if the amount of water he drinks correlates to how much he sweats.

As riveting as it is to watch Blaine drink water (something that’s not _nearly_ as fun from far away as it is up close), Kurt decides it’s best to at least pretend he’s reading his magazine. That way he can sneak glances through his sunglasses without being too conspicuous about it.

Kurt adjusts the magazine to exactly the right angle just in time to see Blaine wipe his hand over his mouth ( _seriously, why is everything he does attractive?_ ) before taking the water bottle and—Oh my god, is he going to? Yes,  _yes_ , he totally is—pouring the rest of the water through his hair.

It’s not exactly the water-cascading-over-a-muscular-upper-body fantasy that Kurt had originally conjured, but Kurt is still unable to look away. Blaine brushes his fingers through his hair before shaking it out and Kurt can  _see_ the water droplets flying off of him.

_How are you_ **_real_ ** _?_

Blaine flips his head back up and then his eyes are on Kurt, who scrambles to hide his face with his magazine and not fall out of the hammock in the process. Because he was caught staring.  _Again_.

_He’s probably used to it. He can’t look like that and not be stared at. I bet even straight guys stare at him_ .


	8. Chapter 8

Conversation isn’t really possible while Blaine is  _actually_  working. Lawn mowers are  _so much louder_  than Kurt had thought they were. And, as if the sound isn’t obnoxious enough, they also kick up the smell of gasoline and grass, which, while not horribly unpleasant, isn’t anything Kurt would ever smell by choice.

But it’s easy to remind himself that the noise and the smell are absolutely, completely worth it.

They might not be able to talk (the few times Kurt had tried, Blaine had had to stop mowing altogether), but the lack of conversation just makes it easier for Kurt to stare. He tries for nonchalant but, after awhile, he realizes that it doesn’t really  _matter_. While gardening might not be Blaine’s  _life passion_ , it does seem to be something Blaine is willing to focus all of his attention into.

And, okay,  _yeah_ , that says something about Blaine and his work ethic, but it would be  _nice_  to have him look over every so often.

Kurt debates for a moment tipping himself out of the hammock on purpose, but decides against it. Falling out of a hammock the first time is endearing; the second time he’ll just look incompetent.

So he settles for the opportunity to watch Blaine completely unhindered, instead.

And as far as  _that’s_  concerned, Kurt has nothing much to complain about. He’s never mown a lawn himself (and he  _never_  plans to), so he has no idea what it takes to push one of those things around. But the action makes Blaine’s arms flex in the most delicious way. The best part, by far, is when Blaine’s back is to him. Mainly because,  _yes_ , Kurt has a thing for his  _ass_ , okay? And if it looks great when Blaine is just walking, there are  _no words_  for when Blaine is doing hard labor. Kurt can see the way the muscles in Blaine’s back shift, the t-shirt Blaine’s wearing plastered to his skin with sweat, but therein lies the problem.

Blaine is  _still_  wearing his shirt, and Kurt, for the life of him, cannot figure out why. It’s hugging Blaine’s biceps in a way that must be horribly uncomfortable, especially in this heat, and Kurt has seen him tug at the collar more times than can just be coincidence. There was even a brief moment when Kurt had thought  _maybe, maybe, maybe_ , as Blaine grabbed the front hem and used his shirt as a way to fan air against his stomach. There had been the slightest lift, a little  _glimmer_  of hope, before Blaine had pushed the fabric back down in a hurry and Kurt almost screamed in frustration.

Annoying, sexual frustration.

The lawn mower cuts off and Kurt’s eyes snap back to the magazine.

“What are you reading?”

Blaine’s voice is louder than Kurt expects, so he chances a glance up to see Blaine walking towards him.  _Look away, look away,_ ** _do not stare_**.

“Magazine,” Kurt replies cooly, wondering if Blaine can tell he hasn’t flipped the page in the last twenty minutes.

“Not a book person?”

Blaine is right next to the hammock, swooping down to pick up one of the remaining water bottles.

“I didn’t say that. Just no books I’m interested in reading right now.”

“I could lend you some, if you want.”

Is it normal to have heart palpitations over borrowing books from someone? Kurt smiles shyly at his magazine, gaze flicking up to Blaine and then back again.

“Avid reader?”

“To put it lightly. Although I’m not exactly against a good issue of Vogue, either.”

Kurt’s head pops up in surprise, and he catches sight of Blaine dipping back to peer at the cover of Kurt’s magazine.

“And  _that_  is a good issue. I love Emma Stone.”

_Wait, no, stop being confusing. You read Vogue, you love Emma Stone. Do you love Emma Stone the way I love Emma Stone or the way Finn does?!_

Kurt’s face twists into a myriad of expressions as he debates agreeing with Blaine or outright yelling at him before he settles into an awkward grimace.  _Great_. That’s  _super_  attractive.

“Were you going to see her new movie?”

Kurt’s eyebrows furrow. New movie? The only new thing she’s in is—

“You mean Spiderman?” Kurt wouldn’t really call that an Emma Stone movie, and his incredulousness must translate rather well because Blaine is grinning sheepishly.

“Yeah, yeah, I guess that is what I meant.”

“A big superhero fan?” Kurt teases, even if he has the sudden urge to pout.

“More like an Andrew Garfield in a skintight suit fan.”

Blaine is  _blushing_  and Kurt nearly falls out of the hammock and he wants to hire a  _fucking parade_ to orchestrate his excitement.

“Well,” Kurt says instead, his voice high with surprise. “I… Can certainly attest to that.”

He has the urge to look away. It doesn’t matter how comfortable he is with his sexuality now, there is the fact that he is admitting it to a near-stranger in the middle of Ohio.

To a stranger who quite obviously admitted it first.

Blaine looks at him and for a moment they just look at one another. Kurt can feel himself blushing, wants to tear his eyes away out of self consciousness now more than anything, but then Blaine is smiling and Kurt is glad he’s lying down otherwise he might just swoon into a flower bed.

“So was that a yes or a no to seeing it?” Blaine finally asks, and Kurt just shrugs a shoulder.

“I hadn’t really thought about it.” Because he hadn’t. Finn had been talking about it, yeah, but it had been some unspoken fact that Kurt wouldn’t be going. So Finn was going with some of the guys from Glee and Kurt wouldn’t spend another second thinking about it.

Or so he thought.

“You should.” Blaine flashes him one more smile before he finishes the water bottle with one giant gulp and heads to start cleaning up his stuff.

Kurt sits there, eyebrows knit in confusion, as he tries to unravel  _that_.

But it’s only minutes before Blaine is next to him again, causing Kurt to jolt out of his baffled stillness.

“You know, eventually you’re going to scare me right out of the hammock,” Kurt mumbles as it stops swinging and Blaine cracks a smile.

“How about I help you out of it instead?”

Kurt lifts his glasses out of his face and looks up at Blaine and, for just a moment, Blaine’s confidence seems to fumble.

“I just—you fell trying to get in the first time, and I don’t want you to hurt yourself trying to get out. Or anything. I mean, I’m sure you could, of course, but I’d rather not worry—that is, not to say that I’d be worried—”

So maybe Kurt’s not the only rambling idiot in this equation.

“Blaine—Blaine!” Kurt can’t keep the laughter out of his voice and Blaine’s mouth snaps shut in embarrassment. “That sounds great. Otherwise I think I’d be stranded out here until next Wednesday.”

“Well, we certainly can’t have that.”

Kurt has a moment where he imagines Blaine sweeping him up into his strong, muscled arms before declaring his undying love for Kurt.  _Sigh_. If only.

“Swing your legs over, first,” Blaine says instead, and Kurt complies, getting ready to heave himself out when Blaine catches both of Kurt’s hands and tugs instead.

Kurt “eeps!” in surprise, stumbling slightly until he crashes into Blaine’s chest and Blaine is steadying him by the elbows.

“Sorry, I guess I should have warned you.” Blaine’s voice is low and  _close, close, so close_. Blaine smells like sunscreen and sweat, gasoline and freshly cut grass, and Kurt’s eyes flutter.

“Yeah,” he replies weakly, but then Blaine is stepping back, the heat and the smell and the touch  _gone_. Kurt wants to whimper. “Thanks.” It’s better than a whimper, but there’s still a bit of a wishful sigh tacked on at the end.

“My pleasure.” Blaine does one of his little bows again and Kurt covers his smile with his hand. Blaine grins and heads back over to his things, beginning to push the lawn mower back towards the gate. But then he stops, his shoulders tensing, and he turns rather abruptly.

“About what I said.” He sounds so  _nervous_. “You should think about seeing it. The movie. But…” Blaine hesitates and Kurt feels like he’s going to  _die_  waiting for the end of that sentence. “Maybe think about seeing it with me?”

What.

“I’ll see you next week.”

And Blaine is gone in a hurry, Kurt still standing there next to a slowly swinging hammock.

Wait. Did that. Did Blaine. Did he.

Did Kurt just get asked out on a  _date?_


	9. Chapter 9

“I hope this is another call about your summer lover,” Rachel drawls when she picks up the phone, and that’s enough that Kurt almost doesn’t want to tell her.

“He’s  _not_ my lover,” Kurt hisses, curling up against his headboard. The scent of Blaine is still fresh to him, like it’s clinging to his skin desperately even though it’s been hours.

“Doesn’t mean you don’t want him to be,” Rachel responds in a sing-song and Kurt glowers at the phone, as if his death glare can transfer itself through it.

“I’m going to hang up on you.”

”Did he compare you to a summer’s day?”

“One.”

“Or maybe offer to deflower your garden?”

“ _Two_.”

“Kurt, I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Rachel laughs and he pinches the bridge of his nose. “No, but seriously, what happened? And don’t try to tell me that this isn’t about Blaine, because you never call me in the middle of the afternoon on Wednesday. Did he sweep you off your feet or something? Ride off into the sunset with you on his lawn mower?”

“You’ve seen Can’t Buy Me Love too many times,” Kurt grumbles, blushing. Because Blaine sort of  _did_ sweep him off his feet, if completely by accident. Kurt can still feel the phantom of Blaine’s hands on his elbows and has to stop himself from sighing dreamily; Rachel doesn’t need more ammo than she already has.

“You’re no fun! I’m just trying to live through you here, seeing as I am  _betrothed_ to your brother.”

“Rachel, you are not  _betrothed_. Trust me, I don’t think our parents would have gone out of their way to make sure you and Finn got married.”

“Stop changing the subject!” She hisses and he knows he’s hit a sore spot. He’s about to apologize when she cuts him off. “So are you going to tell me what happened today or what?”

Kurt fiddles with the edge of his comforter, still trying to register what happened today himself.

“I… I think he asked me out.”

Rachel gasps.

“Like on a  _date?_ ”

“No, like out on the town. Of course out on a date!”

Rachel squeals and Kurt feels his own excitement unfurl in his chest, crawling up his throat until he has the urge to start giggling madly or scream himself.

“So he’s gay?” She asks, and Kurt wants to laugh. “Well, I mean, obviously, but how did you figure it out?”

“Well, first off, he talked Vogue, and then he told me he’s a fan of Andrew Garfield in a skintight suit. And we just…” Kurt falters off. There had been that  _look_ , like they’d both finally found a kindred soul. If that hadn’t been an absolute confirmation, Kurt isn’t quite sure what other signs to look for.

“So how’d he ask you?”

Kurt bites his lip.

“Um, well, we were talking about Spiderman—”

“ _Really?_ ”

“Rachel Berry, if you don’t stop interrupting me, it’s going to be Wednesday again before I finish this story.” He waits one moment and then another, and when she doesn’t say anything, he continues. “Anyways, he asked me if I was going to see it, and I guess… I don’t know, I hadn’t thought about it. It’s not one of those movies I instantly feel the urge to see. So he told me I should think about it, and then he said I should think about seeing it  _with him_.”

Rachel squeals again and Kurt is on his knees, bouncing slightly and wishing she was there so that he could have someone to be ridiculous with.

“And what did you say?”

Kurt grimaces.

“I—He didn’t really give me the chance to answer. He said it and then he just  _left_ and I think it took me at least five minutes to stop standing there and staring into space because that  _actually_ happened.”

Rachel coos.

“That’s so precious, he’s just as shy and innocent as  _you_.”

“Hey—”

“It’s true, Kurt. I bet he was all blushy and mumbly, huh? Ugh, you are  _so_ lucky.”

He doesn’t see how Blaine being embarrassed has anything to do with being lucky, but then he remembers it. The way Blaine had averted his eye and tugged his hand self consciously through his hair. The way he’d kind of shifted his feet and how his skin had reddened across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

Kurt sinks into his pillows again.

“Yeah, I guess I am.”


	10. Chapter 10

Kurt doesn’t really have to think about anything. Blaine could have asked him to think about seeing  _Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter_ and Kurt would have swallowed his fear and gone.

As it were, he’s pretty okay with seeing a superhero movie if it means sharing a bucket of popcorn with Blaine and having the opportunity to possibly bump hands.

He is absolutely, positively, one-hundred-percent sure of his answer. The problem is that he reached his decision about five minutes after Blaine asked (five minutes of being stunned into utter disbelief and approximately one second to think  _yes, yes,_ ** _god_** _yes_ ).

So what is he supposed to do now?

He spends a good amount of Thursday morning staring at the ceiling and willing it to be Wednesday, but eventually it occurs to him that wishful thinking doesn’t make impossible things happen. What he  _really_ needs is for Blaine to come more than one day a week.

Or get a cell phone number. Or address. Maybe some pictures. He’s not picky.

Kurt sighs, the kind of sigh that is appropriate for world-ending circumstances. Or not being able to accept a date that he  _really_ wants to.

Carole ends up being the inspiration for his idea. She’s weirdly happy about having a neat lawn and says something about how the backyard is finally habitable.

“We should do some landscaping,” he says suddenly, the idea striking him. Carole and Burt both turn to look at him, and Carole’s face immediately lights at the idea.

“Oh, wouldn’t that be lovely, Burt? Those old flowerbeds have been dead for months. Imagine how great the backyard would look for the fourth of July!”

His dad might be able to resist his puppy eyes, but Kurt knows that Carole is Burt Hummel’s ultimate weakness.

“Well, I suppose I could call up the kid and see if he does that kind of stuff.”

Kurt feels giddy with excitement, and then stills with sudden realization. His dad has Blaine’s  _number_ , has had it this  _whole_ time. Kurt has spent nearly twenty four hours in  _agony_ and Blaine’s number was  _right there_ within his grasp.

“I’ll do it,” he pipes up. “I’ll call Bl—the gardener,” Kurt finishes in a rush. Burt just shrugs a shoulder.

“His number’s on the fridge.”

Kurt wants to bang his head against the dinner table. Blaine’s number has been on their  _fridge_ for two  _weeks_. He tries not to eat the rest of his dinner too quickly. He burns his tongue on the mashed potatoes. Then he tries not to run into the kitchen and manages a very jittery, fast-paced walk instead.

He really shouldn’t hold it against himself, because their fridge is  _littered_ with coupons and messages and reminders. He has to root around a bit before he sees one that says  _GARDENER_ in his dad’s block handwriting.

Kurt glances at the clock.

Is 8pm too late to call someone about a work-related question?

Is it too late to follow up that work-related question with,  _and definitely, I have thought about it and yes, I would love to?_


	11. Chapter 11

It takes Kurt approximately four minutes of staring at the post-it note and the untimely arrival of Finn (“dude, you’re blocking the fridge”) before he finally dials the number. He hits  _call_ before he can even think to stare at the number any longer.

And then he holds his breath.

_Ring_ .

Maybe Blaine doesn’t have his phone right now. Not every teenager is attached to their phone, after all. Kurt leaves his to the wayside every so often, after all. Maybe Blaine is that sort of person who only carries his phone with him when he leaves the house. Or maybe he misplaces it all the time.

_Ring_ .

Maybe he’s busy. Maybe he’s having dinner with his family, or doing dishes, or baking! Blaine could bake. Or maybe he’s reading. He’d even mentioned picking out books for Kurt to read, so maybe that’s what he’s doing  _right at this moment_. Or maybe he’s out. After all, it’s summer, and a guy like Blaine probably has plans all the time. With friends. Definitely with friends.

Maybe he’s in the shower.

_Ring._

Wait, wait. What is he supposed to say when Blaine answers? Oh god, he should have  _rehearsed_ this. Who calls someone that asked them out without rehearsing what they’re going to _say?_ Should he even mention the date? Would that be weird? Is it better to do it in person?

What if he completely freezes up and doesn’t say  _anything?_

Oh god,  _please_ let it go to voicemail.

_Ri—_

“Hello?”

_Fuck_ .

Kurt’s mouth opens and he struggles for a moment.  _A greeting, just say a greeting. Hi, hello, hey. Say_ **_anything_ ** .

“Good evening.” Kurt’s head falls forward and he beats his phone against his forehead.  _Fantastic_. There’s a pause and Kurt really, really hopes his cell phone dropped the call.

“…Kurt?”

_Dammit_ .

He has about ten seconds to either own up to the fact that it’s him or start speaking in an accent and hang up.

“Yes?” His voice squeaks out and why isn’t it possible to  _hide_ from a phone call?

“Hi.” Blaine sounds immensely surprised and it helps tamper Kurt’s nerves. “I wasn’t expecting _—_ ” There’s a rustling noise, like Blaine is quickly moving around. “Wait, how did you get this number?”

_I’ve been thinking of you for the past twenty-four hours and I would have begged my dad to give it to me if that’s what it took_ .

“It was on our fridge.” Which is completely true. Blaine doesn’t need to know about any of Kurt’s plotting or frivolous thoughts.

“Oh…  _Oh_. Right.” Blaine sounds as if he just remembered that he’s their gardener.

“Actually, I have to admit I’m calling for reasons besides losing my ability to say hi.”

Blaine laughs and the sound fills Kurt with warmth. He knows he’s making the  _face_ , the one where he’s getting all moony eyed and he really doesn’t want to explain that to someone who happens to wander into the kitchen at an inopportune time.

He slips over to the sliding door and out into the warm, summer air. It feels  _right_ , being in the backyard and talking to Blaine. Kurt inhales. The smell of grass makes his skin tingle.

“No, no, that was… That was great.  _Perfect_. Not a lot of people say good evening anymore, you know.”

Kurt rolls his eyes, but smiles.

“Yeah, for good reason.”

“I think it makes you sound rather dashing.”

“I think it makes me sound  _sixty-five_.”

“Sixty-five year olds can be dashing!”

Kurt laughs, sitting down on the step right outside the backdoor.

“Now, I believe you were saying something about an ulterior motive?”

He freezes, wondering how on  _earth_ Blaine knows that Kurt called him for entirely selfish reasons—when Kurt remembers that he mentioned it himself.

“Oh. Um. Do you do landscaping?” Kurt winces. He wishes that he could have called Blaine under normal circumstances, that they could just  _talk_ without having any reason to.

“Landscaping?” A pause. “I don’t see why not. I mean, you don’t want waterfalls or something crazy, right?”

“You don’t do waterfalls?” Kurt asks in mock aghast, drawing a chuckle from Blaine. “I’m afraid that simply won’t do.”

“Well, I suppose I could whip up a waterfall for you.”

Kurt’s heart stutters, his breath catching in his throat. He mentally scolds himself.  _It’s just playful banter, that’s all it is, stop reading into_ ** _stupid_** _things_.

He clears his throat.

“I-um, anyways. Carole—that’s my stepmother, by the way—she wants it done by the fourth, so—”

“So I should probably come another day of the week?” There’s something about Blaine’s voice that Kurt can’t describe, a hint of something that Kurt is sure would be rewarding if he could simply figure it out.

“Yes.” He breathes it out, hating himself instantly for it.

“Great. Um…” Kurt can hear something rustling—paper, maybe?  _Oh my god, does he use an actual datebook?_ ** _Kill me_** _, that is_ ** _too_** _perfect._ “Does Monday or Tue—”

“Monday,” Kurt answers immediately and Blaine laughs.

“Monday it is, then. I’ll be there late morning, since landscape work generally takes some more time. Will Carole be there so we can go over it together?”

 _Shit_. Kurt hadn’t thought of that.

“No, but… I’ll talk to her about it, walk you through it. That’s okay, right?”

“N-no, yeah, that’s great. Of course.”

Kurt hates it when Rachel Berry is right, but Blaine is so endearing it  _hurts_ when he gets all bumbly. Silence falls then and Kurt’s hand flexes against his thigh as he wonders what he should do now.

“Are you outside?”

The question catches him off-guard.

“Huh?”

“I asked if you were outside.”

Well, yeah, Kurt had heard him, he just doesn’t understand where the question came from.

“Yes…?” Kurt glances around. “Are you actually a stalker? I’m warning you, I have a taser.” Blaine laughs.

“No, just… I can hear the crickets.”

 _Oh_. Kurt falls silent again, closing his eyes, and yeah, he can hear them too. He smiles, softly, wondering if Blaine is doing the same thing on the other end of the phone as he listens to the crickets in Kurt’s backyard.

It feels like forever before Blaine says, “well, I should let you go.”

“Y-yeah, absolutely. Sorry to keep you tied up.”

“Trust me. It was no trouble at all.”

Kurt’s back hits the door behind him with a  _thump_ and he’s pretty sure his spine just  _melted_.

“Goodnight, Kurt.”

“Night, Blaine.”

Kurt cradles his cell phone to his chest, staring dreamily up at the stars he can see in the gap of sky between the eave of the roof and the branches of a tree. Could this night get any more perfect?

His phone vibrates and he starts, looking down and seeing a text from a number that’s not in his phonebook. Odd.

 **Unknown (8:29PM):**  
     I hope you don’t mind, but I added your number to my phone.

 **Unknown (8:30PM):**  
     This is Blaine. :) 

Wow. Kurt really needs to tempt fate more often. He adds the contact immediately, staring at the two little messages intently before his fingers work on a response.

 **Kurt (8:32PM):**  
     Trust me. I don’t mind at all.


	12. Chapter 12

“Mmm?”

“ _Rachel_ ,” Kurt hisses, curled up on the floor beside his bed. It’s dark, except for the dim light on his night table. He isn’t really sure why he’s on the floor; maybe because he thinks it will dampen the noise of him being on the phone.

“Kurt?” Her voice is incredibly groggy and he hears her yawn.

“Yes, yes, it’s me.”

“Why… It’s three in the  _morning_ ,” she whines. “Is everything okay?” She sounds far too tired to be concerned, but Kurt blames it on the fact that she still sounds half asleep.

“No, everything is  _not_ okay.”

”What?”

He can almost picture her sitting up, eyes perking open, and he hears the distinctive noise of her clicking on her lamp.

“What if it’s  _not_ a date?”

After all, there’s nothing to _say_ it’s a date. Maybe it was an invitation of friendship. After all, he goes to the movies all the time with Rachel or Mercedes or Tina. Oh god, what if it’s like a  _group_ thing?

“What?”

“What if Blaine  _didn’t_ ask me on a date?” Kurt worries his lip between his teeth, fighting the urge to get up and start pacing. He’s already done the pacing thing.

“ _Kurt_. It’s  _three in the morning_. Do we have to talk about this  _now?_ ”

“Of course we have to talk about it now! I can’t  _sleep_ because I keep thinking about it.” He doesn’t even know where it  _came_ from. He’d spent an entire day floating from his phone call with Blaine, looking forward to Monday and seeing Blaine and accepting the date because the phone call had been  _wonderful_ and the date would be  _wonderful_. But wait, Blaine hadn’t  _used_ the word date, in fact he’d been kind of  _vague_ , so what if—

“I thought you said he asked you out on a date.”

There are many reasons that Rachel Berry is his best friend, and this is one of them. It might be three in the morning, and he might have interrupted her beauty sleep (god knows he’s interrupting his own), but she’s still willing to talk him down from his hypothetical ledge.

“Well, he, I mean. He never  _used_ the word date. He just invited me to a movie. But that doesn’t mean it’s a date. I mean, we go to the movies all of the time and I’m not dating  _you_.”

“Because the fact that I’m lacking obvious equipment has nothing to do with that fact.”

Kurt ignores her.

“And, I mean, we talked yesterday—”

“Wait, you talked yesterday? But yesterday was Thursday. Kurt, if he came to  _see_ you—”

“No, he—Carole decided she wanted to do some landscaping in the backyard.” He pauses. “ _Atmygentlenudging_ ,” he says quickly and at a murmur.

“What was—”

“So I called him,” Kurt says a little louder, cutting her off, “and then we just talked for a little bit, about nothing, and it was  _amazing_ , Rachel, and he called me  _dashing_ , and he said he’d build a waterfall for me.”

“He’s going to build you a  _what?_ ”

“A waterfall. Well, not really, Carole didn’t say anything about a waterfall and I think he was joking. But then we got off the phone, and he wished me  _goodnight_ , and then he added my number to his contacts! And he texted me!”

“I’m lost. Why are you freaking out?”

“Because Blaine doesn’t love me and he didn’t ask me out and he actually has a ridiculously attractive boyfriend named Sean who works at an animal shelter and feeds orphans in his spare time?”

There’s silence.

“I have left you alone with this too long.”

“Probably.”

“First off, you should come over tomorrow. All of your not doing anything—”

“Excuse me, I re-organized my drawers today!”

“—is clearly getting to you. Besides, there are obviously stories you haven’t been sharing with me and I want to try these new homemade face-mask recipes I found. Second, you’re being absolutely ridiculous. It’s still going to the movies with Blaine, even if it isn’t a date. Maybe  _you_ should ask  _him_ on a date if you want to go on one so badly.”

Kurt guffaws as quietly as possible (which isn’t very quiet; he ends up slapping his hand over his mouth immediately afterwards). When he’s sure he doesn’t hear footsteps, he deems it safe to speak again.

“Rachel, I have never asked a boy out in my  _life_. What makes you think I’ll be able to ask  _Blaine?_ ”

“Because you’re Kurt Hummel and you’re good at getting what you want.”

Kurt’s mouth falls open slightly as he thinks over the idea.  _Yeah, but fighting some cougar off of a vintage jacket isn’t the same as asking someone on a date_ .

“Well, I mean. What if I ask him to something like coffee just in case he’s not interested?”

“And what makes you think Blaine doesn’t have exactly the same thought process?”

Oh.  _Oh_.

“Rachel Berry, I love you.”

“I know. You can repay me by making those delicious vegan cupcakes I love for our slumber party tomorrow.”


	13. Chapter 13

Really, baking is  _exactly_ what Kurt needs right now.

After his freak out, it is the perfect way to calm down and relax and to  _not_ think about Blaine. Mainly because he’s focusing on getting clumps out of his batter and keeping Finn from stealing tastes when his back is turned.

But once he’s cleared the kitchen of distractions (and Finn found out the batter was  _vegan_ ), Kurt settles into an easy rhythm that he always seems to find while making things.

He’s humming when his phone vibrates on the countertop (a safe distance away from any flying batter—he can get a little over zealous with his stirring sometimes. Kurt sighs, switching the spoon to his left hand before reaching to grab his phone. Probably Rachel again, reminding him to bring something or asking him what he wants for dinner or—

 **Blaine (11:32AM):**  
     Hey Kurt! :)

Kurt may or may not _eep_ out loud, his phone slipping from his hands like a bar of soap. He forgets the spoon, hands moving frantically to get a hold on his phone before it ends up sinking into cupcake batter. Closing his hands around it, Kurt lets out a sigh of relief. He would have sworn off cupcakes _forever_ if they had come between him and Blaine.

He settles into a kitchen chair, staring at the text message and wondering _what he’s supposed to do_.

_Probably text him back. That’s probably a good place to start_ .

**Kurt (11:39AM):**  
      ~~Blaine! What a pleasant surprise.~~  
      ~~Oh, hello Blaine. Nice to hear from you.~~  
      ~~I was beginning to think you forgot you had my number! ;)~~        
     Hey. :)

Ugh, this is  _pathetic_.

 **Blaine (11:40AM):**        
     So I was looking through my bookcase and realized I never asked you what kind of books you like.

**Kurt (11:40AM):  
     ** Anything.

Okay, was that too fast of a response? Kurt raps his fingers against the table top, waiting.

**Blaine (11:41AM):**   
     Really?  
:D

Kurt smiles at his phone.

 **Kurt (11:42AM):**  
     Really!  
     I mean, nothing gory.

 **Blaine (11:42AM):**  
     No Stephen King then? ;)

 **Kurt (11:43AM):**  
     Definitely not.

Oh god, Blaine used a winky face. What do winky faces _mean_ in the context of this conversation?

He stares intently at his phone, shoulders drooping as the seconds pass. Is that it? Is the conversation over?

His phone buzzes again and Kurt nearly drops it again in surprise.

 **Blaine (11:45AM):**  
     So. What are you up to today?

Oh god, oh _god_ , Blaine is initiating _actual_ conversation with him and wow, okay, he needs to  _breathe_. And not giggle like he wants to, because Finn is in the next room and that would be really super awkward to explain.

 **Kurt (11:46AM):**  
     Baking.  
     I like to bake.

 **Blaine (11:47AM):**  
     I can’t bake to save my life.  
     Color me jealous. ;)

There it was again! Ugh, don’t they have like a decoding book for situations like this? _Is He Into You? Decoding Emoticons Used By Your Super Hot and Flirty Gardener_.

 **Kurt (11:48AM):**  
     Everyone is jealous of my baking skills.

**Blaine (11:48AM):**   
     That good?

**Kurt (11:49AM):**  
     You have NO idea.

 **Blaine (11:49AM):**  
     I’d like to.

Kurt stares at that text message, pulling his phone closer to his face as if he can’t _believe_ that it’s real. But there it is. He wiggles in his seat, trying to keep his excitement from exploding out of him in squeals of excitement. He files _those_ away for later, when he’s safe in Rachel’s room.

He takes a deep breath, steeling himself, before he types out his next message.

 **Kurt (11:51AM):**  
     Well. What’s your favorite baked good?

 **Blaine (11:52AM):**  
     Are you serious?

“Oh god, more than you _know_.”

 **Kurt (11:53AM):**  
     Absolutely! ;)

 _Ha!_ Two can play at this game, Blaine—wait, what’s Blaine’s last name?

 **Blaine (11:54AM):**  
     Oatmeal raisin cookies.  
     With chocolate chips.  
      <3

_Well. It would seem the stakes have gone up_ . 


	14. Chapter 14

Kurt really hates vague time frames.

Not that he never uses them, but he is more of a fan of specific, on the dot times for things. He will be somewhere at one in the afternoon, he has to start dinner at 5:45PM, and if he doesn’t start his skincare regimen by 10:25PM he won’t get to sleep on time.

Specific time frames are good. Vague time frames are bad.

What exactly  _is_ late morning, anyways?

To know that he’d have to be able to classify early morning and mid-morning, and what are Blaine’s definitions of those?

It wouldn’t be so much of an issue except for the cookies. Because his cookies are best exactly twelve minutes out of the oven and Blaine needs to eat one  _right at that moment_. After all, don’t they say that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach?

He waits as long as possible before his nerves start making him jittery before he begins to bake. If Blaine isn’t here by the time the first batch is in the oven, well, Kurt can put the dough in the fridge.

So,  _of course_ , there’s a knock on the door just as he’s about to stir in the raisins.

It’s not even a question of who it could be, but it is the issue of Kurt having flour all over his hands and not having the opportunity to fix his hair. He hesitates in the kitchen, wondering how much time he has, when there’s another knock.

_Apparently not a lot_ .

He wipes his hands on the apron he’s wearing, not chancing fiddling with his hair because a few stray hairs is  _far_ less embarrassing than flour highlights. He hurries down the hallway, wiping his hands one more time, before opening the door with a smile.

“Hi.” Kurt’s voice is a little breathless and his hand clenches on the doorknob. Blaine smiles back at him and bounces slightly on the balls of his feet.

“Hi Y—” Blaine trails off as his eyes very obviously look down Kurt’s body, “—ou’re wearing an apron.” He looks back up, blinking at Kurt in curiosity.

“Astute of you,” Kurt says, biting down on his grin. “I’m baking.”

Blaine perks up.

“Oh?”

There is a strain of hope in his voice that makes Kurt’s heart flutter madly.

“Mmhmm, I believe I promised someone oatmeal raisin chocolate chip cookies.” Kurt taps his lips, glancing upwards as if trying to place  _who_ asked him, before he looks shyly back at Blaine.

The look on Blaine’s face is… Different, one Kurt hasn’t seen in their few interactions together. But his lips are parted, just so, and he’s looking at Kurt like… Like he’s never  _seen_ Kurt before.

“You didn’t promise,” Blaine says, very quietly. Kurt cocks his head to the side.

“No, no I didn’t. But it’s something I wanted to do for you. Come on, you can help me mix in the chocolate chips.”

Kurt hesitates, for just a moment, before he reaches forward and grasps Blaine’s hand, not looking up to meet Blaine’s eyes. But Blaine doesn’t pull away and that, alone, is good news. Kurt leads him into the house (“shut the door behind you!”) and to the kitchen.

“Are you sure you want me helping?” Blaine asks, closer to Kurt than he’s prepared for. His fingers flex for a moment around Blaine’s before he pulls his hand back to himself, resisting the urge to cradle it against his chest. It feels like it’s  _burning_.

“What? Yes, I am. It’s  _chocolate chips_ , Blaine. If you manage to mess up cookies by pouring in chocolate chips, there is absolutely no hope for you.”

Kurt walks over to the bowl, flexing his hand, remembering how it felt curled around Blaine’s. He looks over, raising his eyebrows expectantly, and Blaine does a little hop-jog over, standing next to him so closely their hips touch—it makes Kurt suck in a sudden breath and almost choke on it.

“There go my dreams of becoming a pastry chef,” Blaine laments and Kurt scoffs.

“I don’t know if I want to live in a world where you’re a pastry chef.” Kurt picks up the raisins again, beginning to pour them back in the batter when Blaine suddenly hip checks him. The bag jerks and raisins spill out onto the counter and floor.

“Whoops,” Blaine says, and Kurt laughs. “I guess that’s what you deserve, making fun of me.”

“And I guess it’s proof that you really  _are_ hopeless.”

Something pings against Kurt’s arm and he turns just in time to see a raisin bounce onto the floor. He blinks at Blaine who grins back at him.

“…you threw a raisin at me.”

“Yes. Yes, I did.”

Blaine picks a raisin up off the counter and throws it in the air, opening his mouth to catch it only to have it hit him in the cheek. Kurt presses his lips together, his shoulders shaking with his barely suppressed laughter.

“Smooth,” he laughs and Blaine blushes, looking away.

“Shut up.”


	15. Chapter 15

Blaine diligently cleans up his raisin mess and adds the chocolate chips without incident, other than taking a handful and smashing them into his mouth despite Kurt’s protest.

“You don’t have to stand here and watch me, you know,” Kurt says as he balls the batter up on a spoon. It’s not something he has to measure anymore, eyeing the amount of dough for the perfectly sized cookie before curling it with practiced ease onto the baking sheet. It’s one of the few times he allows his hands to get dirty.

“I know.” Blaine leans his elbows on the counter, watching as Kurt works with the dough. “It’s ent— _interesting_.” Blaine clears his throat. “It’s  _interesting_.”

Kurt glances up, sees how Blaine is averting his eyes and… Blushing. He is  _most definitely_ blushing. The fluorescent lights of the kitchen make it hard to see it as anything else. His flounders for a moment, trying to think of something,  _anything_ , to say. He has so many options right now and  _why can’t he think of the right one?_

“You’re only saying that because you can’t do it.” It’s casual, a little playful, and doesn’t embarrass Blaine.  _But I want to embarrass him, I want to draw attention to it. He looks so pretty when he blushes_.

“Hey, no, I could totally do that.” Blaine straightens up a bit, affronted. “Let me—”

“No. No, no, no, no. Look what happened with the raisins.”

“That was  _your_ fault!”

Kurt laughs, shaking his head.

“Fine, fine. You can do  _one_. Wash your hands again.”

Kurt works on a few more cookies before Blaine comes back over, holding his hands up for inspection. Kurt does his best not to stare at them too long. He hands the spoon to Blaine.

“I need to wash my hands anyways.” He wiggles his fingers, covered in cookie dough.

“I never thought I’d see you with cookie dough covered hands,” Blaine comments, dipping the spoon back into the bowl. _Oh god does that mean he_ ** _thinks about me?I_**

“Baking is one of my exceptions.” Kurt pops his finger in his mouth, dragging the raw dough off with his teeth, and humming at the taste. He glances back at Blaine who is… Okay, Blaine is staring at him. “What?”

There aren’t really words for the look on Blaine’s face, only that his mouth is open just slightly and Kurt has the urge to swipe his thumb over it. He doesn’t.

“Did I get cookie dough on my face?”  _Oh god, please say no, please say no_.

“Huh? Oh, no, you… Didn’t.” Blaine turns his entire face away. “Your face is cookie dough free.”

Kurt furrows his eyebrows, debating on asking Blaine what  _that_ was all about, and then heads over to the sink, collecting the rest of the dough from his fingers with his tongue. After all, it would be a waste of good cookie dough to simply wash it down the drain.

“…you didn’t do anything,” Kurt says, incredulously, when he comes back over. Blaine is still simply holding a spoon full of dough and staring at it. “If you changed your mind about being able to do it, I will let you off with an I-told-you-so.”

Blaine says nothing and Kurt has a moment of panic; was that too much? Too far? Their entire… Whatever they have has been witty banter and Kurt embarrassing himself and Blaine being  _way_ too attractive for his own good and possible flirting. But this, this is new. It almost feels… Awkward.

“Blaine?” Kurt’s hand hovers in the air, but he doesn’t touch the way he wants to. Blaine’s head shoots up.

“Yeah, sorry. No, I can do it. I just spaced out there.” He smiles, but something is strangely off about it. Kurt lifts an inquiring eyebrow, but doesn’t press. This thing between them is still so tenuous and Kurt isn’t quite sure what his boundaries are. So instead he smiles, crossing his arms, and waits for Blaine to form his cookie.

There’s a little too much dough, and it pokes out at one side that will probably burn, but Kurt doesn’t fix it. In fact, he really hopes that’s the cookie he gets to eat.

“And now we’ll put the first batch in the oven and I’ll finish forming the cookies, since it apparently takes you a week to do it.” Kurt smiles, picking up the two baking sheets and moving them into the oven easily.

“I do not! I was just—” But Blaine drops off, running his hand through his hair and  _sigh_ , Kurt  _really_ hopes he gets to do that someday. “We’ll finish faster if you let me help. After all, I didn’t come over to bake cookies with you.”

 _Right_. That  _had_ slipped Kurt’s mind. They’re supposed to be discussing things, flowery things. Carole hadn’t been very strict on what she wanted, just for the flower beds to look, well, less  _dead_ and for the bushes to be a little less unruly. As long as the flowers were colorful, she didn’t really care which kind they got.

Which meant that Kurt got to research flowers, and also had the opportunity to ask for Blaine’s opinion.

“ _Fine_ ,” Kurt agrees with mock reluctance, digging for another spoon in the drawer. “But you’re helping me wash all of these cookie sheets.” He brandishes the spoon at Blaine before he goes back to scooping out dough. “Use a little less dough,” he comments, watching Blaine carefully. “And try to avoid those little tails.”

Blaine looks over at him in exasperation and Kurt laughs quietly, shrugging and smiling at him. It’s all very  _homey_ , and they work in silence. At least, they are until Blaine starts humming softly. Kurt shoots a look at him, their eyes meeting at exactly the right moment, but Blaine just quirks his lips in return and raises one shoulder in a shrug.

It’s familiar, but Kurt isn’t exactly sure how, only that he starts humming along. He knows it, he  _knows_ he does, but what is it?

“Oh my  _god_.” He turns on Blaine, laughing incredulously. “Call Me Maybe?  _Really?_ ”

Blaine’s humming cuts off as he chuckles, the sound silent except for exhales of breath as his chest moves with the motion.

“It’s a  _good_ song,” Blaine defends, and Kurt is sort of surprised with how  _earnest_ he sounds.

“ _Please_ ,” Kurt scoffs, rolling his eyes. He wipes his hands against his apron as the buzzer sounds. “That’ll be the cookies, Mr. Top 40.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult?”

Kurt waves his hand dismissively, sauntering over to the oven and retrieving a pair of mitts to remove the trays. He sets them carefully on the stove, looking at them inscrutably before deciding they are at the perfect amount of just-undercooked to be perfectly gooey when he moves them to the cooling racks.

Blaine is still bopping behind him (literally, he is  _bouncing_ on his feet and  _seriously_ , does he become exponentially more adorable over  _time?_ ), humming that  _annoying_ yet  _unfairly_ catchy song. Kurt supposes he’ll just have to give in.

“ _Hey, I just met you_ ,” he sings, and Blaine’s humming stops abruptly.  _Oh god, was that too much?_ Blaine turns to look at him, eyebrows arched high in a look of… Wonderment?  _What?_

“ _And this is crazy_ ,” Blaine sings back, and if Kurt thought his  _speaking_ voice was unbelievable, there is  _nothing_ that compares with Blaine’s singing voice. Kurt might  _swoon_. As it were, Blaine is smiling at him encouragingly, and Kurt rolls his eyes.

“ _But here’s my number_.” Kurt tries very hard not to laugh. Blaine dances across the gap of kitchen that separates.

“ _So call me maybe_.” He grins at Kurt and then spins around him, and Kurt knows  _exactly_ where he’s going.

“ _You’re going to burn your mouth on that cookie_ ,” Kurt sings to the tune of the song and Blaine picks up a cookie, bouncing it from hand to hand (and it’s practically  _falling_ apart in his hands, it’s still so fresh) before shoving it unceremoniously into his mouth.

Instantly, he’s opening his mouth, as if he wants to spit the cookie back out, and Kurt just laughs, moving to the fridge to get him some milk or water.

“I think I burned my tongue,” Blaine whines, and Kurt glances over his shoulder.

“You’re ridiculous. Milk or water?”

“Milk, please and thank you.”

Kurt pulls it from the fridge, and hopes Blaine doesn’t mind skim.

“They’re delicious, by the way.”

Kurt’s glad he’s still facing the fridge, bites his lip to keep the squeal from coming out and hoping that his blush isn’t visible on the back of his neck. He hears Blaine singing again and the dulled  _clop_ of cookie dough hitting the sheet.

“ _Before you came into my life, I missed you so bad, I missed you so bad, I missed you so, so bad_ .”


	16. Chapter 16

“What did you _put_ in these?” Blaine moans around a mouthful of cookie in a way that would be gross if it wasn’t so _obscene_. Kurt blinks, looking away and shrugging, his fingers flitting against the edge of the kitchen table.

“It’s my own recipe, but there’s nothing _that_ peculiar in them.”

Blaine makes a noise of astonished disagreement as he shoves another cookie in his mouth. Funny how he can find something so horribly disgusting when Finn does it, but this is… Not.

“You have horrible table manners, did you know that?” Kurt jokes, and Blaine smiles sheepishly before swallowing.

“Not usually, actually. Just… These _cookies_.”

Kurt blushes, looking down and smiling. Because Blaine _likes_ his cookies.

 

“I’m glad you like them so much,” he says primly, folding his fingers together and setting them on the table (mostly to stop himself from continuing to fidget).

“Like is an understatement.”

Kurt’s lips quirk a bit more and he resists the urge to scuff his foot against the floor like a schoolgirl. He realizes he’s probably smiling deliriously at the table but he can’t _stop_ , and he can feel himself blushing, his face is so hot.

Blaine moans again, and the heat quickly drops southward.

“So flowers!” Kurt says suddenly, his voice coming out a bit shrill. He clears it, turning to look at Blaine. “We’re… Talking about flowers.”

“Oh! Right, let me just…” He looks around before grabbing a napkin and cleaning his hands. Well, at least he didn’t just wipe them on his pants (pants today, not shorts). “Okay, so you told me you had some ideas of your own?” Blaine turns to him, eyes eager.

“Um, sort of? I don’t know much about flowers, so—”

“That’s okay. That’s why I’m here, right?”

_I hope that’s not the_ **_only_ ** _reason you’re here_ .

“Yeah.” Kurt smiles, a little nervously. Blaine pulls a small notepad out of his back pocket, and looks at Kurt. “Oh, a pen, right, just a second.” It’s weird how it’s the little things like _this_ that have Kurt nearly tripping over himself.

He sits back down in the chair sideways, so that he can face Blaine more easily.

“So, I really like orchids—”

“What kind?”

“…huh?”

Blaine smiles, his eyes twinkling when he looks up at Kurt. “What kind of orchids do you like?”

_Kind?_

“Oh, um… The… White ones?” Maybe he should have done more research, because now he just feels like an _idiot_.

“Those are generally grown inside—” _Now I feel like more of an idiot_ , “—but I’ll see what I can do. Are they your favorite?”

_Ugh, I feel stupid, I should have looked into this, I should have googled proper garden flowers or something_ .

“Kurt?”

“Hmm?”

“Orchids, are they your favorite?” Blaine asks, although he’s not meeting Kurt’s eyes.

“Oh, um. Yes, I suppose they are.” Kurt sees Blaine smile just slightly.

“So anything else?”

“Well, I thought maybe hydrangeas—” Blaine writes it down and Kurt fills a trill at the fact that he got something right, “—and daisies.” Blaine bites his lip. _Spoke too soon_.

“We can do daisies, but they won’t be ready by next week. We’ll have to grow them. They tend to sprawl though, so we might want to confine them to one area.”

Kurt watches as Blaine doodles a flower next to the word ‘daisy.’

“I love daisies,” Blaine offers without prompting, and he beams a smile at Kurt. _Of course_. Of course Blaine would love daisies. Daisies are such a happy flower (or, as Meg Ryan once said, a friendly flower), and Blaine is exactly that: happy and friendly.

He has the best smile when he’s happy.

Blaine clears his throat and _fuck_ , he caught Kurt mooning at him. Kurt blinks, clearing the lovesick glaze from his eyes and sitting up straighter.

“Anything else?” Blaine asks, but his voice is softer.

“I’ve always liked jasmine?” Kurt feels so unsure of himself suddenly. But then Blaine brightens.

“You have that wall to the side of your yard, and climbing jasmine is a lot easier to control than the bedded kind. Don’t get me wrong, it still can become a monster if you don’t watch it, but the smell is so—what?”

“What?” Kurt echoes.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

_Fuck_ .

“I-I wasn’t—”

“Kurt.”

Kurt bites his lip and shrugs.

“I guess it’s just… It’s fascinating to see you light up like that. I mean, I haven’t known you long but… You’re passionate about this, aren’t you?”

Blaine is blushing, and he looks down.

“I just… I like flowers, I guess.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re my—our. It’s a good thing you’re _our_ gardener.” Kurt freezes at his stumble, his mistake, but Blaine just looks up and beams at him again.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s a great thing.”

Kurt’s stomach swoops.

“Now!” Blaine perks up again. “Let’s talk petunias.”


	17. Chapter 17

Kurt wakes up Wednesday morning to rainfall.

It’s the first storm of the summer and he isn’t surprised, but that doesn’t stop him from feeling incredibly disappointed. He stares out the window at the rivulets of water, tracing their path with his finger as his forehead presses against the cold glass. He isn’t incredibly fond of the rain as it is and right now he _hates_ it.

Rain is such a cock block.

With a resigned sigh, he makes the decision to stay in his pajamas and have a pity party movie marathon. It feels like a Meg Ryan kind of night.

He’s about to pad downstairs when his phone catches his eye on his nightstand. He bites his lip and then grabs for it, tapping out a message before he loses the nerve.

 **Kurt (8:52AM):**  
     Guess I won’t be seeing you today.

 

His fingers twitch against the sides of his phones, and he shakes his head. “Come on, you can do this.”

**Kurt (8:53AM):**   
     :(

Sending an emoticon shouldn’t nearly give him a heart attack. It just _shouldn’t_.

Kurt clutches his phone for a few moments, but it doesn’t vibrate. He sighs again, slipping it into the breast pocket of his pajamas and heading downstairs.

He debates with himself for a few moments about how unhealthy it is to have popcorn for breakfast before he decides to slather a bagel in cream cheese and call it a day. While he’s heading back towards the living room, bowl of popcorn in his arms and half of a bagel held in his mouth, his phone vibrates. Once, twice, _three times?_

“Mmph!” He exclaims through his breakfast, hurrying towards the couch as fast as possible. A bit of popcorn jumps out as he sets the bowl roughly on the coffee table and fishes his phone from his pocket.

 **Blaine (9:20AM):**  
     Why do you get up so EARLY?  
     Why wouldn’t you see me today?

 **Blaine (9:21AM):**  
     Because it’s raining?

Kurt’s heart thumps loudly in his chest as he rips his bite from his bagel and sets it back on the plate he brought with him.

 **Kurt (9:27AM):**  
     It’s a little hard to mow the lawn in the rain.

 **Blaine (9:28AM):**  
     But my jingle says rain or shine!

 **Kurt (9:29AM):**  
     You have a jingle?

 **Blaine (9:29AM):**  
     It’s a work in progress.

Kurt bites down on the tip of his thumb, trying to keep his grin from cracking his face in half.

 **Kurt (9:30AM):**  
     As your employer, I’m telling you to take the day off.

 **Blaine (9:31AM):**  
     But you’re not my employer!  
     Your dad is. :)

**Blaine (9:32AM):**   
     Haha.

**Kurt (9:32AM):**   
     Haha?

**Kurt (9:33AM):**   
     Really?

**Blaine (9:33AM):**   
     :P

**Blaine (9:34AM):**  
     See you in an hour and a half!

 **Kurt (9:35AM):**  
     Sure I will.

Blaine will stay home because it’s _storming_ outside and can you even start lawnmowers in the rain? Either way, their lawn is probably slush right now. Blaine will just _have_ to come back tomorrow. Which is fine, perfect even, as long as Kurt remembers to bring up their maybe-date.

How does he ask if it’s a date without _asking_ if it’s a date?

He pops in the first DVD ( _You’ve Got Mail_ first) and curls up on the couch with his popcorn.

“Oh Meg Ryan, why don’t you ever have problems like this?”

Then again, her love interest puts her out of business and she hates him. Kurt figures he could be doing a lot worse for himself.

 

“Uh, Meg Ryan, you need to dump him. _Dump him_.”

Kurt puts a handful of popcorn in his mouth, scoffing at the screen.

“Seriously, dump him, you’re in love with Tom Hanks. And he doesn’t even love you, look at that!”

Of course, he knows Meg Ryan is going to dump him. It’s not like it’s his first time watching this movie.

The doorbell rings and Kurt groans, setting the (now empty) popcorn bowl on the coffee table. He has no idea who would be outside on a day like today, but maybe Carole ordered something or—Oh! Maybe it’s those wingtips he won on eBay. They’re not supposed to there until next week, but things _do_ come early.

“Just a second!” He calls, moving backwards with his eyes still on the screen.

“ _Me either_ .”

“I don’t understand why you stayed with him if you didn’t love him anymore. Go after your mysterious online soulmate!”

Kurt opens the door, turning and then letting out a loud EEP!

He slams the door just as quickly, plastering his back to it. He’s out of breath all of a sudden, like he just ran up and down the stairs twenty times.

“Kurt?” There’s a knock against the door and Kurt closes his eyes. Well, there goes the possibility that Blaine being on his doorstep was a hallucination. “Are you okay?”

_No, I am not okay, you are outside of my house and I am in my pajamas_ .

“Yes, yes, everything is fine, just…” Just what? Wait outside in the rain for an hour while he gets ready? He hurries over to the mirror in the hallway, tugging at his face and frowning at himself. He fluffs his hair to the best of his ability, but it still sticks up and flops in ways he doesn’t want it to.

_But what other option do I have?_

Kurt opens the door slowly, hiding his body behind it as much as possible.

“What are you _doing_ here?”

“Rain or shine, remember?” But Blaine’s smile falters, and he brushes some of the rainwater from his face. He’s not thoroughly soaked, but it’s obvious he ran from his car to the protection of the eaves. “You might have been right about that mowing in the rain thing.”

“You’ll come to learn I’m right about a lot of things. But… Come in, I can’t… Leave you outside in the rain like this.”

Blaine’s smile is almost worth the complete mortification Kurt feels at being in his pajamas.

_Almost_ .

“Oh, I—I didn’t mean to interrupt anything,” Blaine apologizes the moment he sees Kurt. “Were you busy?”

“Just… Watching a movie.” He gestures to the living room behind him vaguely, hears Meg Ryan say, “ _but there’s the dream of someone else_.”

“You’ve Got Mail.” Blaine smiles, and Kurt blinks at him in surprise before smiling back.

“Yeah.”

“Classic. Good choice. I prefer Sleepless in Seattle, though, if you’re going with her and Tom Hanks.”

“Another good choice. When Harry Met Sally is my favorite though.”

“Oh, definitely.”

They’re beaming at each other and Kurt almost forgets that he didn’t shower that morning and has bed head.

_Almost_ .

“Oh, you know what, let me get you a towel, sorry.”  _I was too busy falling in love with you to remember that you’re soaked_ .

“It’s fine, Kurt. I just dropped by out of the blue, uninvited.”

“But you couldn’t stay away, you couldn’t fight it?”

_Where has this boy_ **_been_ ** _all his life?_

Blaine laughs, shaking his head and loosing a few water droplets.

“Hey, hey, my hospitality does not mean you get to shake yourself off like a dog. Here, um… Come with me.” Kurt’s hand hovers awkwardly before it closes around Blaine’s wrist and he begins taking him upstairs. They’re quiet as they make their way up and as Kurt pulls extra towels from the linen closet before stopping in front of a door.

“This is my stepbrother’s bathroom, so it’s not the cleanest one in the house but—” _I don’t know if I’m ready to have you in my bathroom_ , “—it should do the trick. In fact, you could… Take a shower, I mean, if you wanted, I don’t—”

“Kurt, calm down. I ran thirty seconds in the rain, I didn’t walk all the way here,” Blaine teases and Kurt laughs awkwardly.

“Right, right, I’ll just… Downstairs.” He backs away a few steps.

“Pants!” Blaine says suddenly.

“Excuse me?”

“My… Pants are kind of wet. If you have something maybe I could borrow?”

Blaine wants to borrow his pants. _Woah, no, don’t go there_.

“I… I probably have something. I’ll, um.” Kurt swallows, trying to fix the sudden dryness in his mouth. “I’ll just leave them outside the door, and then… Downstairs, you can just meet me.”

Blaine nods, backing into the bathroom. Kurt stands there and he can see Blaine’s eyes until the bathroom door clicks shut.

He slumps against the wall, staring at the carpet with wide eyes.

This _cannot_ be happening.


	18. Chapter 18

When Kurt finally drops back onto the couch, Tom Hanks is trapped in an elevator and he remembers he forgot to pause the movie. After all, he had much more important things to deal with.

_Besides, it’s not like you haven’t seen it before_ .

But why is Blaine _there?_ That’s what Kurt can’t figure out. Even if Blaine had driven all the way there in hopes that the rain would stop, why didn’t he turn around when it was clear it hadn’t? Why did he come all the way up to the door?

_And what happens now?_

“I got trapped in an elevator once.”

Kurt nearly flies off the couch in surprise, head snapping up to see Blaine leaning over the back.

“It isn’t nearly so life-changing. Also a lot darker.” Blaine stares at the screen for a few moments. Kurt stares at him. “Then again, it was only stuck for about ten minutes and I was nine.”

 

Kurt laughs a bit and Blaine looks down at him.

“What?”

“That’s… Cute.” Kurt smiles shyly and Blaine just awkwardly shrugs a shoulder. It’s silent for a few moments, punctured by the _where are my tic-tacs?_ from the screen. “So!” Kurt’s eyes snap back to the movie. “What did you do with your, erm… Wet clothing?”

_Blaine’s pants are somewhere in my house_ .

“Oh, I hung them over the shower. I hope that’s okay?” He sounds slightly uneasy, as if he’s pressed a boundary he didn’t know was there.

“It’s fine, I was just going to offer to dry them for you if you… Had the time.”

_Are you staying? Are you going? Why are you here?_

“That’s so thoughtful of you, Kurt, but they should be fine.”

_Okay, now what does that mean? Air drying denim takes_ **_ages_ ** _. Is he staying? Is he stealing my pants?_

It’s awkward. Kurt is sitting and Blaine is standing and Kurt has apparently forgotten every amount of etiquette he’s ever learned because there is this thing that happens when Blaine is around that makes him stupid apparently.

“So—”

“If—”

They both start and stop at the same time, and then Blaine laughs.

“I’m sorry, you first.”

“No, no, you go ahead.”

“Kurt. I insist.” Blaine smiles at him.

_Yeah but what if what you were going to say negates what I was going to say and_ **_why is this so hard?_ **

“I was just going to say that, I mean, if you have the time and you don’t have to be anywhere else you could…” Kurt hesitates, grabbing at the fabric of his pants (and _god_ , he’s still in his _freaking_ pajamas). _Just do it, the worst he could do is say no_.

Why do people always act like that isn’t a horrible outcome?

“Join me?” He spits out, before he can stop himself. It’s quiet, which is definitely not a good sign, and Kurt can feel a million explanations piling up at the back of his throat and—

“Okay.”

_What?_

“Okay?”

“Yeah.” Blaine smiles at him. “Okay.”

How tactless is it to let out a whoop of victory in front of the person your head-over-heels in love with?

“Okay,” Kurt says again, his voice shaky with his elation. Or nerves. It might be shaky with his nerves, but it’s very hard to tell. They look at each other for a few more moments before Kurt’s brain has the decency to kick in. “Oh, right, um. Sit down. I’ll make more popcorn. Do you want anything to drink?”

“Do you need any help?” Blaine hovers by the couch, not sitting down. 

_Yes, yes, please don’t leave my sight_ .

But Kurt knows he needs a few minutes alone to process this.

“It’s fine.”

“Okay… Then water would be great. Um, do you want me to pause it?”

“No, no, I’ve seen it like a hundred times or something. Could probably quote it in my sleep.” Kurt scoops up the popcorn bowl, shoots another nervous smile at Blaine, and then scrambles towards the kitchen.

 _Shit, shit, shit_. What is _happening?_ Okay, first, he needs to breathe and calm down. Panic attacks are not at all attractive.

“Okay. Okay, okay, okay.” He walks distractedly around the kitchen, plucking things from cabinets as his mind works. Blaine is here, he is going to watch _romcoms_ with _Blaine_ , and Kurt has no idea what any of this means. Is this… _Oh my god_ , is this a _date?_ No, no, it _cannot_ be any sort of date. Kurt is in his _pajamas_ for god’s sake.

“We’re just two friends hanging out, that’s all.” He snaps the microwave closed and waits, closing his eyes to calm himself. He’ll just pretend that it’s Rachel or Mercedes or Tina or _anyone but Blaine_.

Except that’s impossible. Because it’s _Blaine_. He’s never shared a couch with a boy he liked; hell, most of the boys he’s liked in the past weren’t even _options_. But Blaine is an option. Blaine is a very, very tempting option.

_Oh god, this is dangerous_ .

The microwave beeps and Kurt squeaks in surprise. He _really_ needs to calm the fuck down.

_I’m not some preteen girl and Blaine is my friend and I will keep my shit together. I am Kurt Hummel and I keep things together_ .

Popcorn and water acquired, he makes his way slowly back into the living room just in time to see the ghost of Meg Ryan’s mother swing her around in an empty book store. Kurt’s heart clenches just a bit. This part of the movie always makes him sad.

“This part of the movie always makes me sad,” Blaine says quietly, and Kurt is surprised the words aren’t coming from his own mouth. He stares at the back of Blaine’s head, briefly wondering if he’s some sort of _mindreader_ , but then realizes things would be a _lot_ worse if he was.

He settles down on the couch quietly, setting their waters down on coasters and nestling the popcorn bowl between them.

“I always hated the fact that Kathleen had to lose so much. That was her mother’s store, and even if Joe does make things better later on… She still loses this one thing that meant so much to her.”

Kurt blinks, biting his lip and staring resolutely at the screen.

“Sorry, you probably think I’m really weird, taking this movie so seriously.”

Kurt shakes his head.

“No,” he says roughly, and then clears his throat. “No, I… This part always makes me sad, too.” For different reasons. It would always make him sad for different reasons.

“Kurt?”

He looks at Blaine with a too bright smile, but Blaine is all furrowed eyebrows and concerned eyes. He reaches towards Kurt, fingers curling in hesitation before he sets his hand on Kurt’s forearm.

“Are you okay?”

 _I’m fine, just a little tired, rain makes me weird_. Anything, anything would do, except that the words die on his tongue. He swallows thickly.

“It’s… It’s nothing, just… Just something silly,” he says quietly, smiling again. “This part of the movie just… It reminds me of my mom.” _Of the way she used to pick me up and swing me around in my kitchen and since when does this movie make me so emotional?_

But Blaine is still looking at him in confusion and Kurt huffs out a laugh.

“She died,” Kurt says, setting his lips grimly. “When I was eight.” The sad music of the movie really isn’t helping things.

“Kurt…”

They both jolt as the music swiftly changes to something else, and Kurt laughs, shaking his head. Well, that’s certainly one way to break the mood.

“Would it make you really uncomfortable if I hugged you?”

Kurt’s head snaps to the side and he stares at Blaine, eyes wide.

“…w-what?” There is no way Blaine just said that. Is that a line in the movie? Does Tom Hanks suddenly sound like Blaine?

“Is that weird? Sorry, I just… Never mind.” Blaine pulls his hand back, flustered.

“No, it’s… I wouldn’t be uncomfortable.” Kurt pushes through his embarrassment, knowing it’s stupid of him to think he can will the color away from his cheeks.

Blaine looks at him again and then gives a small nod, leaning in sideways to wrap his arms around Kurt. It’s awkward and there’s a popcorn bowl between them and Kurt’s body is twisted at a weird angle and it’s the _best hug Kurt has ever gotten_. And it’s something he didn’t know he needed until right in that moment.

“Thank you,” he says in a hush as he feels Blaine pulling away. He doesn’t grip at the back of Blaine’s sweater the way he wants to, but lets his fingers slide along the fabric as Blaine’s body shifts back.

“Anytime.”

_Oh, do not give me any ideas._

“Come on, let’s watch Tom Hanks woo Meg Ryan and then we can watch him woo her again over a radio.”

“Do they ever meet in a regular way?” Kurt sinks back into the couch.

“No. But I think the best love stories start in unconventional ways.”

Blaine smiles at Kurt then and Kurt’s heart leaps into his throat.

_Yeah. They really do_ .


	19. Chapter 19

There is a really uncomfortable pain in Kurt’s neck. He tries to ignore it, brush it off, but it just seems to become more painful the less Kurt pays attention to it.

He groans quietly, opening his eyes to see that the TV is still on, the DVD menu for Sleepless in Seattle looping continuously. _Weird_. When did the movie end?

Kurt closes his eyes again, shifting so that his neck isn’t at so awkward of an angle, and nuzzles his face against the shoulder he’s resting on.

Wait.

Kurt goes very still, eyes opening and staring straight at the screen. The sound is still on, not even quietly, yet he’d slept right through it. Oh god, he’d _fallen asleep_.

But maybe everything that had happened had been a dream. After all, Blaine showing up for no reason? Kurt being in his pajamas? A _hug?_ Oh god, it was all a dream. At least that means he hasn’t been mortified by Blaine seeing him in _pajamas_ … With _bed hea_ d. It’s almost a fair trade for the hug. Ugh, Kurt could only _dream_ a hug that wonderful.

Which means he probably fell asleep on Finn or something, which is awkward but not the kind of extreme embarrassment that would possibly kill him if he fell asleep on Blaine. Gotta look for those silver linings.

Kurt shifts again and notices that there’s a noticeable weight on his head—great, Finn fell asleep on _him_ too. That makes everything sufficiently more awkward. He opens his mouth, ready to wake Finn up, when he catches sight of the t-shirt his cheek is pressed against.

Blaine’s t-shirt.

_No, no, it’s a coincidence. It’s Finn’s shirt and I just put it on Blaine in my dream for some reason_ .

But the argument sounds weak even to him. 

_Better safe than sorry_ .

Kurt turns his head, slowly, slowly, doesn’t want to disrupt whoever is resting on him, who he is resting on, _oh god oh god oh god_. He raises his eyes.

Chin. Lips. Nose.

Oh god, it _is_ Blaine.

Kurt closes his eyes, opens them. Closes them, opens them.

Nope, Blaine is _still_ there.

Okay. _Okay_. He shouldn’t freak out. _Don’t freak out_. If he freaks out, Blaine will wake up and _what does he do when Blaine wakes up?_

What is he supposed to do _now?_

Kurt has been in a lot of awkward situations in his life. One time he even woke up with Rachel spooning him and that had resulted in a conversation he _never_ planned to relive. _Ever_. He’s always been good at awkward situations, at laughing them off and working through or around them. Nothing puts a kink in Kurt Hummel’s life.

Except Blaine.

 _Think_. There has to be a way out of this that doesn’t involve something horribly embarrassing. Kurt really wishes he could think of it. But he can’t even move without the fear of Blaine waking up, and then what would Kurt do? Push away from him violently?

_I suck at flirting but even_ **_I_ ** _know not to send mixed signals_ .

He could just revel in it. He could curl up closer to Blaine’s body heat and close his eyes, fall back asleep. Kurt imagines looping his arms around Blaine’s trim waist, hearing his heartbeat through the cotton of his shirt, feeling Blaine’s fingers stroke through the hair at the nape of Kurt’s neck.

Kurt wonders if there’s a way to get those things that doesn’t involve putting his entire heart on the line.

Blaine makes a soft noise in his throat, turning his face and—Kurt’s breath hitches— _oh god_ , Blaine is nosing at his hair. Kurt feels the shudder creep up on him before it happens, tingling from his shoulders all the way down his spine. He stills, breath bated, waiting. Blaine’s body has gone from pliant with sleep to slightly tense and Kurt feel’s Blaine’s mouth shift into a yawn, warm breath heating up the skin of Kurt’s temple.

It’s so intimate Kurt wants to _drown_ in it.

Kurt closes his eyes, doesn’t know what else he could possibly do in this situation, and waits. It’s probably the cowards way out, letting Blaine figure a way out of this. But Blaine could just lift his head, move away, and Kurt can pretend to wake up a few minutes later. It could be like it never happened.

He can tell Blaine’s waking up by the way his body shifts, is waiting for the moment when Blaine sits up straighter and pushes away from Kurt.

But it doesn’t come.

Blaine doesn’t even tense up the way Kurt did at realizing the situation and Kurt wonder if maybe he didn’t wake up at all. But his breathing isn’t as even as it was (and Kurt can tell—he can _feel_ it stirring pieces of his hair) and he’s at least aware of his body because his weight isn’t resting so much against Kurt anymore (he sort of misses it). Blaine’s cheek slides against his hair, shifting, and Kurt waits.

He wonders if Blaine knows he’s awake, can tell by the tension coiled tightly in his shoulders.

Everything goes still again and Kurt knows he can’t just keep pretending to be asleep. He’s going to have to wake up and face the incredibly embarrassing music. _I really hope I didn’t drool on him. Oh god,_ ** _did_** _I drool on him?_

Kurt opens his eyes very slowly, his breath and heart lodged uncomfortably in his throat, wondering how long it will take Blaine to notice he’s awake. He’s expecting a few moments, a few subtle stretches to hint at it.

He doesn’t expect Blaine’s eyes to be open and looking at him.

Kurt’s never seen a color like that before.

He starts, head jerking slightly and—

“Oh my god—”

“Kurt, I’m _fine_.”

Kurt mentally makes a note of Blaine’s voice because he just woke up and it’s all _low_ and _sleepy_ and _okay, I am filing that away for later_.

“I just head-butted you in the nose!”

Never mind that Blaine was watching Kurt sleep. Never mind that he was smiling so softly that if Kurt hadn’t been so fucking _surprised_ he’s sure he would have _melted_. This needs to be a dream. Because he just _broke Blaine’s nose_.

Blaine’s rubbing at it, pulls his hand away and Kurt is ready for the fountains of blood—oh. There isn’t any. Blaine scrunches his face up, wiggling his nose around and _god_ it makes Kurt want to kiss him.

“Seriously, it’s fine. See?” Blaine wiggles his nose around and he _really needs to stop it right now_.

“Oh god, seriously, I’m so, so sorry, I—”  _I wasn’t expecting to open my eyes and have you looking at me_ .

“No, it’s my fault, I shouldn’t have been…” 

_Watching me while I slept?_

Blaine runs fingers through his hair awkwardly and he’s _blushing_ and averting his eyes.

“Sorry,” he mumbles meekly, and Kurt doesn’t know how to say _, it’s okay, you can sleep on me forever_ without him sounding creepy or unhinged.

“No, it’s—” Kurt shakes his head, swiveling his wrist around to try to say it’s fine without actually _saying_ that it’s fine even though it is _so totally fine_. They sit there awkwardly, not meeting each other’s eyes.

“I don’t remember falling asleep,” Kurt muses quietly, looking at the screen. He’s seen it so many times now it’s hard to remember what he’s watched recently and what’s just memory.

“The part where Sam sees Annie in the airport.”

Kurt looks over at Blaine with wide eyes and… Well, of course. It’s not like they magically both fell asleep at the same time. Someone had to fall asleep first. And apparently that someone was Kurt.

“Did I…?” He gestures vaguely to Blaine’s shoulder and Blaine blushes, shaking his head.

“No, you leaned your head back against the couch, and then you just sort of…” Blaine trails off because they know what Kurt _just sort of_ did then. He feels so embarrassed he wants to sink into the couch and disappear into it. He settles instead for covering his face with his hands, fingers pushing against the skin of his forehead.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

“Hey, no, it’s…” Blaine trails off, but then Kurt feels a warm touch to his wrist. Blaine’s hand. He pulls Kurt’s palm away from his face and smiles at him unsurely. “It’s okay,” he says, so quietly Kurt’s almost positive he imagines it. But he didn’t.

Blaine really just said it was okay.

Kurt’s eyes dart around, unsure of where to settle, not knowing what he’ll _do_ if they settle on Blaine at that moment. Instead he sees the clock.

“Wow.” He turns back to look at Blaine just in time to see Blaine’s eyes snap from… Somewhere. Where was he looking?

“What?” Blaine’s voice is still a lightly rough and he clears it. “What?” He asks again.

“It’s almost four already.”

This seems to catch Blaine off guard; his eyebrows raise in surprise, and he quickly digs for his phone in his pocket, eyes closing.

“I have to go,” he says, voice full of disappointment. It tugs at Kurt, makes him want to smile, but he doesn’t; after all, Blaine has to _leave_. He can mull over the disappointment later (among other things).

“More yards to not mow?” Kurt teases lightly; after all, it’s still raining. A look of hopelessness crosses over Blaine’s face and Kurt immediately regrets his comment.

“Kurt, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Blaine.” His voice is hard enough that Blaine stops, staring at him. “It’s okay. I…” Kurt looks away, biting his lip and then back at Blaine. “Today was… Really nice.”

Blaine blinks in surprise and then smiles softly, twisting his fingers in the back of his curls the way Kurt so longs to do.

“Yeah, I… Yeah. Yeah, it was.”

They smile shyly at each other again but then Blaine’s phone vibrates and he sighs.

“I do have to go.”

“Any clues as to where?” Kurt pries, curiosity piqued. Blaine smiles, standing up and stretching his arms and Kurt _totally_ doesn’t look at the way his shirt rides up.

“My other job.” Blaine just grins back, grabbing his car keys and wallet from where they were set on the side table. “But, really, Kurt, thanks for having me.”

“Anytime,” Kurt says as he follows Blaine to the door. Blaine just smiles back at him and, feeling bold, Kurt reaches forward and grabs a fold of fabric just by Blaine’s elbow. “Seriously. Anytime.” Kurt watches as Blaine’s eyes focus on where Kurt is holding onto him and then as they flick back up to meet Kurt’s.

“Okay,” Blaine says in a hush, a quiet word just between them. Kurt smiles.

Blaine turns to go again and Kurt moves forward, opening the door.

“And Blaine.” Blaine stops as he’s walking past, looking at Kurt eagerly. “Um, about the movie…” He worries his lip, catching Blaine’s gaze unsurely. “I’d… I’d love to go with you. If the offer still stands.”

This seems to take Blaine completely off guard. His eyes widen and the biggest grin Kurt has ever seen on anyone spreads across his face. Kurt wants to make him smile that much always.

“O-of course it still stands, definitely, I—Yeah, absolutely. Um.” Blaine closes his eyes, eyebrows furrowing. “Next Friday?”

A week and a half. Kurt just smiles, nodding.

“That sounds… Perfect.” It really does.

“Well then, it’s a date.” Blaine smiles at Kurt again, backs out of the door until he has to turn and throw his arms over his head in his mad dash to his car. Kurt watches him go, leaning against the doorframe as his head spins.

It’s a date.

_It’s a_ **_date_ ** .

Kurt waits and watches as Blaine’s car disappears, closing the door when the chill becomes too much. A _date_. Kurt sighs dreamily, collapsing back on the living room couch and fighting the urge to stuff his face in a pillow and scream.

He forgets about his pajamas, about his hair, about the mystery of whether or not he drooled on Blaine. Today has been the _perfect_ day.

Wait a second.

Blaine totally just stole his pants.


	20. Chapter 20

Kurt uncrosses and recrosses his legs.

He stands up, fluffs the pillow that decorates the armchair he’s been sitting in, and moves to look out the window. It’s just before seven and it’s pleasantly twilight outside; thank goodness for long summer days. Kurt fidgets at the window, staring down the street and then turning away from it. He paces behind the couch, turns around, and heads back to stand at the window.

“You look dressed up,” Burt comments as he settles onto the couch and turns on the TV. “You going somewhere?”

 

“The movies, remember?” Kurt pulls back the curtain to glance up the other side of the street.

“I thought Rachel was going out with Finn tonight?”

There’s a thundering on the stairs as Finn hurries down them, tugging a jacket over his arms. He hits the small decorative table in the entryway and Kurt watches the vase totter dangerously until Finn rights it.

“Bye!” He calls and rushes out the door; Kurt rolls his eyes.

“She is.” He turns back to the window, crossing his arms and bouncing slightly with all of his energy.

“Huh… You going with Mercedes?”

_Shit_ .

“Um… No.” Kurt’s fingers fold into the material of the curtain, wringing it between his hands.

“Tina?”

“No…”

Kurt can see his dad’s eyebrows furrowing.

“Uh… Brittany?” Burt asks unsurely and Kurt knows he’s grasping for names in his memory.

Kurt shifts, uncomfortable, staring down at the embroidered detailing on the curtains.

“No…”

Burt’s looking at him now, whatever’s on the TV completely forgotten.

“You going by yourself?”

Kurt doesn’t know what he should say. This isn’t something him or his dad talk about. How does Kurt tell his dad that he’s going on a _date?_ Because it’s a date. It is _so totally a date_. With Blaine. Kurt is going on a _date_ with _Blaine_. He resists the urge to suddenly start wiggling with excitement.

But this is bad. Kurt has no idea how his dad will react to this situation. What if he fires Blaine? Fires Blaine for taking advantage of Kurt while he was home alone—which didn’t happen (Kurt can’t even _think_ about it happening without his circuits shorting) but what if his dad _thinks_ it happened? Kurt can’t let his dad _fire_ Blaine over a _movie_ and a seduction that didn’t even take place!

_Oh god_ .

His dad owns a _gun_.

“Kurt?”

“I’mgoingwithBlaine,” Kurt mumbles, tugging at the hem of his shirt as if it gives him a reason to look down and not into his dad’s eyes.

“You’re what-now?” Burt just continues to look at him more intently and Kurt chews on his lip before deciding to just take the plunge.

“Blaine. I’m going with Blaine.”

A look of confusion and then surprise comes over Burt’s face.

“The gardener?”

Kurt almost wants to wince.

“I didn’t know you were friends with the gardener.”

_Please stop calling him “the gardener.”_

“He has a name, dad,” Kurt says, crossing his arms over his body.

“When did you become friends?”

Kurt tries not to fidget, but his finger tips twitch at the cuff of his sleeve where it’s rolled above his elbow.

“I dunno, dad, it just sort of… Happened.”

“I think that’s great, Kurt.” Carole walks into the living room and smiles. “Tell him he did a lovely job on the hedges, will you?”

He resists the urge to bury his face in his hands. He wants to _die_.

Burt has stopped staring him down, which at least provides a little relief. Kurt glances out the window again and feels the nerves begin to wind tight.

“So what movie are you two seeing?” Burt’s voice is casual again, at least; it makes Kurt feel less like he’s being interrogated. “It’s not the one with the strippers, right?”

“Dad!”

“Burt!” Carole scolds at the same time, and he holds up his hands in defense.

“What? Look, I just don’t want the gardener—”

“Blaine, dad. His name is Blaine.”

“—fine, _Blaine_. I just… Think you two should pick your movie together.”

Kurt closes his eyes and draws on his patience.

“Well, we’re not seeing the “stripper” movie,” Kurt says flatly. _Oh god, on a_ ** _date_** _?_ “Not that I think Blaine would mind.”

Burt turns to look at him again, expression unreadable.

“That so?”

“Yes,” Kurt responds airily with an upwards tilt of his chin.

“So… He’s…”

“Gay, dad. Yes. Blaine is gay, okay?”

Kurt feels like his cheeks are on fire and he turns to look out the window and—oh fuck, a car. Pulling up to the curb.

“So… Is this like… A date?”

The uncomfortable tone of Burt’s voice permeates the room and Kurt hears a car door close.

“Blaine and I are just friends, dad.”

It’s not a lie. Blaine and him _are_ just friends.

The doorbell rings.

“Okay, well, I’ll be back in a few hours, bye,” Kurt says in a rush, hurrying towards the door.

“Wait a minute there, Kurt.”

His hand freezes on the doorknob and he grimaces. Kurt let’s out a sigh and then straightens his shoulders, composing himself. Blaine has spoken to his dad before. It will be fine. Everything will be fine.

As long as Blaine doesn’t mention the fact that it’s a _date_.

With a deep breath, Kurt opens the door.

And loses the ability to breathe completely.

He’s never seen Blaine dressed up in more than jeans and a t-shirt, which, given the nature of his job, makes sense. He’s always dressed so casually that Kurt just assumed that’s how Blaine always dressed.

Apparently he was wrong. So very, very wrong.

He can see Blaine’s _ankles_.

_Okay, don’t swoon over ankles, you saw his calves when he was wearing shorts and this isn’t the fucking Victorian Era._

Blaine is still in jeans, but they’re cut more nicely and are—Kurt swallows— _much_ tighter than the ones he usually wears. He’s paired them with a solid red polo and… Kurt smiles, biting his lower lip. Blaine is wearing a bow tie.

It hasn’t occurred to him yet that he’s just standing there, staring. Then again, Blaine hasn’t said anything either.

“Hello, Blaine.”

Kurt snaps out of his daze and looks over his shoulder at his dad. _Right_. His _dad_.

“Good evening, Mr. Hummel.”

Kurt grips the doorframe tightly and can practically feel the suspicion oozing off his father.

“So… I heard you two kids are going to a movie?”

Blaine smiles and Kurt finds himself slightly impressed; it is the absolutely perfect, charming, parent-pleasing smile.

“Yes, sir, we—”

“Are going to miss the previews if we don’t leave now!” Kurt bursts in before Blaine can say anything else. He looks at his dad. “You know how I am about the previews.” Kurt steps out of the door and gently turns Blaine by the shoulders and urges him down the walkway. “Bye dad!”

“Home by midnight, Kurt!”

“G-goodbye, Mr. Hummel!”

Kurt keeps herding him towards the car, throwing glances over his shoulder; he isn’t surprised at all that his dad is still in the doorway watching them.

“K—”

“Shh, no, wait until we’re in—wait, what happened to your car?” Kurt blinks, looking at what is definitely a hatchback and definitely _not_ a truck.

“What? Oh. Um. This _is_ my car, actually,” Blaine admits, sheepishly. Kurt’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “The truck belongs to a friend of mine. He lets me use it for my yard… Business stuff.” Blaine shifts a little awkwardly.

“That’s nice of him,” Kurt says with a smile and Blaine flashes it back.

“Yeah, um…” Blaine looks up at the sky and Kurt is so thankful for the extra hours of daylight and the fact that he can see the blush on Blaine’s cheeks. “You… Look really nice.”

Kurt’s face lights up—he’s sure of it—and he ducks his head shyly, smiling.

“Thanks, so do you.”

Blaine blushes in response, hand moving up to touch self-consciously at his bow tie. Kurt resists the urge to bat his hand away and then straighten it; it’s perfectly straight already.

“I like your hair.”

Blaine groans and just like that the awkward moment is broken.

“No, really, it’s… Different.” Kurt winces. “But… Not _bad_ different. I have to say I’m a fan of the curls, but this is also…” He kind of wants to touch the sudden smoothness of Blaine’s hair; it’s a little too much product in Kurt’s opinion, but it isn’t horrible. His hand is raising and when he realizes what he’s doing he snaps it back to his side. “This is also good.”

Blaine averts his eyes and when he looks back at Kurt it’s through his ridiculously long eyelashes. Kurt feels like his knees might give out.

“C-come on.” His voice comes out a bit breathy and he swallows to get a hold of himself, bringing his smile back to his face. “I was serious about the previews,” Kurt teases and Blaine laughs. The idea of getting into Blaine’s car seems to finally drive the point home—this is it. This is a _date_. Kurt suddenly feels like his stomach is going to drop out of his feet.

“Oh, wait, here, let me get that.”

Kurt blinks in surprise and Blaine jogs over to the passenger side of the car, opening the door with a flourish.

“Aren’t you the gentleman?”

Blaine scrunches up his nose and Kurt grins, slipping into the car. He’s hit in the face with the amount of  _Blaine_ that’s suddenly around him. It’s not the smell of gasoline and cut grass but of hair product and a spicy musk that makes Kurt’s spine tingle.

“So are you going to tell me what that quick exit was all about? The movie doesn’t start for another forty-five minutes, we won’t miss the previews.” Blaine closes the door behind him as he climbs in and starts the car.

“Oh, um, just… My dad was being… A dad.”

“Didn’t like the idea of you going out on a date with the gardener?”

The word date spikes through Kurt, but he frowns.

“You’re not **the gardener** ,” Kurt says with a hint of annoyance. “You’re just Blaine. As far as I’m concerned, gardening just happens to be a hobby of yours that you use to earn money.” 

Blaine is silent as they pull away from the house but when Kurt glances at him he can see that Blaine is smiling.

“But, um, no… It wasn’t that…” Kurt fidgets with the strap of his seatbelt, casting his eyes over at Blaine. “I sort of… Didn’t mention that this, um…” Blaine saying the word ‘date’ and Kurt saying the word ‘date’ are two completely different things. Because when Blaine says it, Kurt just feels this swell of happiness erupt from the pit of his stomach out to his fingertips.

But the idea of Kurt saying it is suddenly the worst idea, ever, and his mouth seems to get insanely dry.

“That this is a date,” he finally says, hesitantly, biting down on his lip. Blaine lets out a sound of surprise and Kurt turns to see a look of amusement.

“Kurt Hummel, I’m surprised at you!”

Kurt crosses his arms moodily.

“You know, that’s hardly fair.”

Blaine’s eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“What is?”

“You know my last name, but I don’t know yours.”

Blaine is quiet for a few moments, fingers drumming against the steering wheel and Kurt can hear the faintest streams of music coming from the low volume of the radio.

“It’s Anderson.”


	21. Chapter 21

“You totally liked it, admit it.”

They’re making their way through the theater with the rest of the stragglers (“You don’t leave before the end of the credits of a Marvel movie, Kurt.”), arms brushing against each other as they walk side by side.

“It was better than I thought it would be,” Kurt comments aloofly, and Blaine nudges their shoulders together.

“You loved it,” Blaine responds in a sing-song. “Come on, you did. It’s okay, you can tell me. I won’t tell anyone.”

Kurt bites his lip to keep from smiling too much, chin raised in indignation. Blaine continues to nudge his shoulder playfully until Kurt lets out a breath of defeat, although it’s largely interrupted by a laugh.

“Okay, okay, I really enjoyed it.”

“ _Loved_ it.”

“Don’t push it, Blaine.”

 

Kurt isn’t sure exactly when or how it happened, but at some point after the lights went down before the movie and before they came back up at the end the first date awkwardness they had been stewing in had disappeared. There were still moments—there will always be moments, Kurt is sure—but for the most part things are relaxed and comfortable.

It’s amazing.

The sun is gone when they’re finally back outside, and the night is suddenly cold and cloudy. Kurt shivers in his thin shirt and regrets not thinking to plan an outfit with a jacket option, glances at Blaine who is hunching his arms in close by his body.

“I wish I hadn’t left my cardigan in the car,” Blaine says randomly, more to himself than anything. Kurt remembers seeing one draped behind the driver’s seat and that Blaine once lamented how summer weather prevented him from wearing them.

“Well, it’s a good thing we’re going to your car then.” Kurt bumps his hip against Blaine’s and takes a few steps forward before Blaine seems to realize he’s moving.

“So… Not a fan of lizards, huh?” Blaine throws a playful glance in Kurt’s direction and he bristles. He hadn’t really intended to get into the movie quite as much as he _did_ , and he certainly hadn’t meant to get scared. Or emotionally invested.

Then again, he also hadn’t expected Blaine to take his hand when the lights went down, lacing their fingers together and keeping them there throughout the whole movie. Kurt flexes his hand at the memory, as if he’s grasping phantom fingers.

“Oh shut up.”

“What? It was cute!”

Kurt flushes at the same time that he resists the urge to swat at Blaine.

“It’s okay, Kurt, I’ll protect you from giant lizard men. You can count on me.” The laughter breaks through Blaine’s voice and this time Kurt does shove him.

“You’re one to talk. I thought I was going to lose my hand you were holding it so tight at the part with the spiders.”

“They rained down on him! Spiders! Ugh, and then, ugh, gross, gyaaah.” Blaine shakes his arms out as if he’s imagining that he’s covered with spiders himself. “That part didn’t freak you out?”

“Spiders don’t really bug me.”

“But giant lizard men that could in no possible way exist—”

“Oh my god, Blaine, is that a spider?” Kurt gasps and points at Blaine’s shoulder and he immediately begins brushing at it frantically. Kurt’s straight face lasts about two seconds before he’s laughing, pitching forward slightly as Blaine glares at him.

“You, Kurt Hummel, are very mean.”

“You started it.”

They grin at each other, paused for a moment in the middle of the parking lot before Blaine clears his throat and they continue walking.

“I really didn’t expect the uncle to die,” Kurt comments, fingers hooking into the front pockets of his jeans.

“Really?”

Kurt turns to look at Blaine in surprise.

“You wanted the uncle to die? I swore you were crying!”

“No, I didn’t _want_ him to—hey! I wasn’t crying!”

Kurt fixes him with a look.

“I was… I was _moved_ , okay? Come on, I saw you discretely wipe your eyes, you can’t hide your sadness from me.”

“At least I didn’t cry when Spiderman was swinging through the city at the end…”

“The city came together to help him, Kurt! It was beautiful.”

They’re both laughing then and Kurt is surprised they’ve already made it to Blaine’s car. He leans back against the trunk, shaking his head and smiling at Blaine.

“You’re adorable.”

It slips out without him meaning for it to, and his mouth acts as if it wants to draw it back in. But Blaine reaches across the small distance between them, slipping his fingers between Kurt’s again. Kurt feels like his entire stomach has turned into butterflies.

“Would you never speak to me again if I used a mirror line right now?” Blaine asks in a low voice. The moment suddenly feels very intimate despite being in the middle of the Regal 12 parking lot.

“Yes,” Kurt responds solemnly and watches the smile stretch across Blaine’s lips. He’s looking down at their joined hands but Kurt can’t stop looking at _him_.

“Then we should pretend I never even asked.”

The moment feels strangely charged and Blaine is suddenly meeting Kurt’s eyes through the filter of his eyelashes.

“You know,” Kurt says, his thumb moving hesitantly over one of Blaine’s knuckles. The sudden movement momentarily draws Blaine’s attention and he squeezes Kurt’s hand in recognition. “I was really upset at what Peter did to Gwen at the end.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmm.”

Kurt feels Blaine shift their hands, bringing them up until they hover between them. It’s strange how seeing their fingers together is so fascinating.

“Why is that?” Blaine prompts. They’re talking so quietly now that they’re nearly whispering, but Kurt can’t imagine them speaking anymore loudly. It would be too much. Even _talking_ seems like it’s too much.

“Because he was being stupid. Why is it that whenever someone has to break off the relationship for someone’s own good they can’t at least tell them the truth?”

“Well, then it would be harder to stay out of the relationship with both of you knowing that you still want to be in it.”

“Still. It’s stupid.”

Blaine’s looking at their hands again. When he looks back up, there’s a new shyness to his eyes that Kurt hasn’t seen since the beginning of the night.

“This might seem a little presumptuous of me, but…” He grins as if he’s suddenly amused, “But if I ever become a superhero, I promise not to stay away from you for your own good.”

Kurt’s heart feels like it’s beating in his ears.

“Oh?”

“It wouldn’t be a promise I could keep.” Blaine admits it as if he’s telling one of his deepest secrets. The words alone would be enough to make Kurt’s breath catch in his throat, but the tone of Blaine’s voice (low, raw, vulnerable) and the look in his eyes (earnest, but something else, something Kurt has been seeing there all night and unable to name) almost make Kurt stop functioning completely.

He draws in a shaky breath.

“But those—”

It’s one thing to be out of breath. Kurt isn’t a stranger to that burn in his throat and lungs after particularly rigorous dancing or an hour on a treadmill.

It’s another thing to feel like something has taken your breath away completely. Kurt knows that moment, when air seems to rush out of him as quickly as it can until it almost aches in his lungs because something has surprised him in the best way possible.

But Kurt’s never actually had his breath taken away, not like this. Not like he can’t even remember how to breathe. Not like he doesn’t even care that he needs it, that he can feel his body screaming for it, but doesn’t care enough to listen.

Kurt’s never kissed anyone or been kissed, not really. Not one that _counted_ , anyways.

And this counts. It _definitely_ counts.

His breath seems to jump inside of him as soon as Blaine’s lips touch his. Kurt can’t even remember Blaine being that close, but he must have been. Because one moment it had been just that energy, the energy that had been pointing to this moment and Kurt had been too blind to see it.

Thank _god_ Blaine had.

It isn’t long, but Kurt is sure that nothing would be long enough for him. It can’t be more than a few seconds, the dry and warm press of lips to lips, before Blaine is pulling back and Kurt feels himself chase him as his lips disappear.

Kurt doesn’t even remember closing his eyes.

Blaine’s own eyes flutter open and he’s looking up into Kurt’s, still so close that it would be so easy to just lean back in again.

It’s too dark to tell if Blaine is blushing, but Kurt can feel the heat in his own cheeks. His eyes keep flicking back and forth between Blaine’s gaze and his _lips_ and _oh my god_ , they just _kissed_.

Blaine _kissed_ him.

That _actually_ happened.

Blaine lets out a little surprised laugh, drawing back slightly and Kurt fights the urge to reach out and pull their faces back together.

“That… Wasn’t how that was supposed to happen,” Blaine mumbles awkwardly, rubbing at his neck. His eyes widen and he looks up at Kurt. “I mean, that was, you’re, it was—I wanted it to happen, I just—”

“…you planned how you were going to kiss me?” Kurt couldn’t fight the smile taking over his face if he wanted to. Blaine groans, trying to hide his face with the hand that isn’t knotted together with Kurt’s.

“That’s totally lame, isn’t it?” He glances up at Kurt as if he expects Kurt to laugh at him. As if he expects Kurt to be anything but totally and completely enamored.

“No… No, it’s…”

Kurt wants to kiss Blaine now, show him just how _not lame_ it is, but the fact that they’re in a parking lot seems to finally breech the bubble of _Blaine kissed me Blaine kissed me Blaine kissed me_ that’s monopolizing most of his thought process.

“It’s not lame,” Kurt says instead, biting his lip. Blaine is still looking at Kurt like he’s waiting for the hammer to fall, or the other shoe to drop. Kurt almost wants to hold out his hands and show Blaine that there’s nothing in them, that he’s waiting for something that’s never going to happen.

“I just… I had this whole plan, I did, but I just couldn’t—” Blaine laughs again in a self-deprecating way. “I’m not very good at romance.”

Kurt honest-to-god laughs, causing Blaine to look at him in surprise.

“I don’t believe that for a _second_.”

“Kurt, I just kissed you in a _parking lot_ —”

Kurt presses his fingers to Blaine’s lips, feeling his heart jump up at his own boldness and at the knowledge of what he’s doing. Blaine’s _lips_. Lips that were on his. Blaine _kissed_ him.

_They’re so soft. And warm_ .

He can feel Blaine’s breath against the pads of his fingers.

“You kissed me, Blaine,” Kurt says, dropping his voice back to the intimate level they’d been at earlier. “The where of it all doesn’t really matter to me.”

It’s amazing, feeling how his lips turn into a smile instead of just watching it.

_I really don’t want tonight to end_ .

“It doesn’t have to yet,” Blaine murmurs, lips brushing and catching against Kurt’s fingers and—wait, did he say that out loud? Kurt just looks at Blaine expectantly, curious.

“We could… Go somewhere else. Get coffee or something.”

Kurt’s hand finally falls away, drawing back in towards his body, fingers curling into the fabric of his collar.

“Coffee? It has to be after 10:30pm by now.”

Blaine makes a face, but then his eyes light up at the same time that he squeezes Kurt’s hand in excitement.

“I know exactly where we can go.”


	22. Chapter 22

“You took me to an ice cream parlor?” 

Kurt turns to look at Blaine, blinking in surprise. They’re still sitting in his car and Blaine is drumming his fingers uncertainly against the steering wheel. Blaine glances over at him and shrugs sheepishly.

“Yeah…” The bashful look slips from his face as… _Something_ registers in Blaine’s eyes. “Oh-oh god, do you not eat ice cream? We can, I mean, it’s _Lima_ , there’s not a lot open, and—”

“Blaine,” Kurt says on the tail of a laugh and Blaine looks over sheepishly. “It’s _ice cream_. Yes, I like it,” he clarifies, his lips still tipped up into an amused . “I’m guessing _you_ like ice cream?”

“Duh,” Blaine says without hesitation and Kurt can’t help but laugh. Blaine grins, but something else has replaced the bashful undertones of his smile. It reminds Kurt of the look he gets on his face whenever he finds something worthwhile, in his _size_ , at the local consignment shop.

Pure, untempered excitement. And over an  _ice cream parlor_ of all things.

Kurt has to bite down on his lip to keep from blurting out how adorable he thinks Blaine is.

 

Blaine is practically bouncing with energy as they get out of the car and make their way towards the shop. It’s nondescript and Kurt can’t exactly remember seeing it before. Then again, ice cream parlors aren’t really in short supply in Lima. It does have a rather cute bay window at the front, though. A bell even rings when they walk through the door.

“Blaine?”

Kurt’s attention is drawn to the single worker behind the counter; the shop is completely empty except for them and him. Kurt’s never even heard of an ice cream shop that’s open at eleven at night but, at this point, he really can’t complain.

“Back so soon? Weren’t you here all afternoon?” The guy laughs, setting aside the mop he’s been holding and turning around to wash his hands. Kurt looks over at Blaine with amusement.

“Should I be concerned that you have a problem?” Kurt bumps his hip playfully and Blaine looks away, blushing.

“No,” Blaine huffs out on nervous laughter. “I, um, work here.”

Well, Kurt hadn’t been expecting _that_.

“You _work_ here?” Kurt reiterates.

“He works here,” the man behind the counter verifies, and Blaine sends him an annoyed look. He grins and holds up his hands as if to apologize for butting into their conversation.

“So I’m guessing this is one of your many jobs, huh?” Kurt isn’t sure what he imagined as Blaine’s other jobs, but ice cream parlor hadn’t even been on his radar.

Blaine shrugs again and he looks so embarrassed that Kurt sort of has the urge to reach over and touch his face and wonder if it feels warmer because of it.

_Is that something I can do now? What exactly did that kiss establish?_

“Wait, Blaine, is this _the guy?_ ”

Blaine blushes more fiercely.

“David, _shut up_.”

_The guy?_

Kurt looks at Blaine with a raised eyebrow but Blaine is looking anywhere but at him. _Does Blaine talk about me?_

“There’s a guy?” He asks with as much nonchalance as he can muster, but it’s hard to keep the strain of nervous excitement in it completely contained. Blaine shuffles his feet and Kurt is vaguely aware of the guy at the counter (David, Blaine said) watching them but he really can’t look away from Blaine. He finds it a little entrancing the way Blaine can go from being completely confident about what he’s doing to bashful in so short a time.

Blaine looks over at him and he’s so insanely embarrassed and that’s enough, Kurt knows, and he reaches over and takes Blaine’s hand. He doesn’t lace their fingers together—isn’t brave enough to do that—but he does squeeze it gently.

“Fucking finally.”

They both whip back around to look at David.

“Sorry to ruin the moment, but he has been talking about you for _weeks_.”

“David,” Blaine says, his voice warning, and Kurt can feel the grin starting.

“If I had to hear about your _hair_ or your _eyes_ or your _ass_ —”

“ _David_.” Blaine is clutching at Kurt’s hand, probably without realizing it.

“I should have known when you asked to switch shift tonights, but I thought it was—”

“David!”

David finally stops talking and he looks a least a little ashamed of himself, but not really. Kurt can tell just by the way he’s looking at Blaine that this is the sort of relationship they have.

“So I’m guessing you guys came for ice cream?”

Blaine seems to settle and he tugs Kurt closer to the display case.

“Because, I mean, if you came here to make-out, I don’t know how I feel about that.”

Blaine’s head thunks against the glass case and Kurt covers his mouth, both to keep from laughing outright and to cover up the majority of his own blushing face.

“Okay, I’m done, so what can I get for you?” David flashes Kurt a charming smile and Blaine’s forehead is still dejectedly pressed against the cool glass. Kurt blinks, eyes going wide as he looks over his selection and then lets out a little noise of delight.

“The cheesecake, please, in a waffle cone.”

David just nods and turns to grab a cone. When Kurt glances back down, Blaine’s cheek is still pressed to the glass but he’s looking up at him through his unfairly long eyelashes. His eyes are wide in curiosity and Kurt wonders when it would be too soon to kiss him again.

“Cheesecake?”

Kurt tilts his chin up.

“Yes, cheesecake. I like cheesecake. Why, what do you get? I feel like I should guess bubblegum.”

Blaine laughs in amusement, picking his head up and rubbing at his probably numb cheek.

_I can do that, let me do that_ .

He doesn’t try to, though.

“Of course not, Kurt,” Blaine says, tilting his head to the side. “We don’t have bubblegum here.”

Kurt lets out a shocked bark of laughter, covering his mouth quickly in embarrassment, but Blaine is nearly bouncing with his smugness.

_Because he made me laugh_ .

“Alright!” David’s back, holding two cones. “Cheesecake for you, and—”

“Cookie dough,” Kurt finishes, as Blaine takes his cone with a grin. “I should have guessed cookie dough.”

“Oh, he eats everything. I’m pretty sure ice cream is his favorite flavor of ice cream.”

Kurt smiles and Blaine just shrugs, not even ashamed of the fact.

_I’m falling in love with a five year old and I can’t even begin to care_ .

“Oh!” Kurt says, reaching awkwardly into his back pocket to take out his wallet. “You paid for the movie—”

“And you paid for popcorn, and candy, and sodas,” Blaine interjects.

“Yes, well—”

“Not important,” David finishes with a shrug. “It’s on the house.”

Kurt looks over at him in surprise.

“Blaine works here, besides. It can be my birthday gift to him.”

Kurt stares at David for a very long moment, before turning slowly to look at Blaine, who is half-hiding behind his ice cream cone.

“Your birthday?”

There’s a strange sort of tension now in that tiny little shop and Kurt can hear David’s fingers rattling nervously against the glass.

“I… Thought that’s why Blaine asked for the night off,” he finishes lamely.

“Today is your _birthday?_ ”

Blaine glances at Kurt over his ice cream, chewing the inside of his cheek.

“No…” He looks over at David and then back at Kurt. “Tomorrow is?”

Wow.

Kurt stares at Blaine for a long moment. It’s not like he could have _known_. It’s not like Blaine is mad at him for not knowing; if anything, he looks nervous about Kurt being mad. Which doesn’t make sense, because it’s not like Kurt is having _his_ birthday ignored. If anything, he’s surprised and a little guilty; Blaine spent his birthday night off with him.

Wait.

Blaine spent his birthday night off with _him_.

“Thank you for the ice cream, David.” Kurt turns and smiles at him and then immediately closes a hand over Blaine’s cardigan covered wrist. “It was nice meeting you, but I have a curfew to meet.”

Never mind that that curfew isn’t for another fifty minutes.

He tugs Blaine out of the store and back towards his car. He doesn’t say anything, just waits as Blaine unlocks it and they climb inside. It’s not until there’s the final thump of the doors closing that Kurt turns to look at him.

“Tomorrow is your birthday?” Kurt’s voice is quiet when he asks. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Blaine shrugs , staring at his ice cream. It might be cooler than it was earlier, but that doesn’t mean their ice cream isn’t slowly beginning to melt.

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Blaine.” Kurt reaches over before he realizes it, fingers curling around Blaine’s bicep. The casual touch sends a rush of warmth up his arm and he tries not to show that it’s affecting him. “It’s your birthday, I mean… Do you work tomorrow?” Blaine shakes his head. Well, he still sort of spent his birthday with Kurt.

“Are you… I don’t know, doing something?” It feels awkward even as he says it. Blaine is still for a few long moments before he shakes his head again. His shoulders seem to drop, as if he’s waiting for something horrible. It makes Kurt’s stomach twist uncomfortably.

“Did… I mean, you don’t—it’s your day off, so if you just wanted to be by yourself, that’s fine, but if you wanted we could… I don’t.” _Why am I so bad at this?_ He grips his forehead in frustration. When he brings his eyes back up, Blaine is looking at him.

“Yeah,” he says, and for a moment Kurt feels nothing but confusion. “I’d… Like that a lot.”

Oh. _Oh_.

“Okay, um, did you—”

“Do you want to come over?”

Kurt is silent, staring at Blaine as the words register in his head. He remembers the soft, dry touch of Blaine’s lips and feels his neck heat up.

“Okay,” he answers, far too quietly. But Kurt can’t even let his head go there, if only because Blaine’s answering smile is nothing but incredibly grateful.

_But why?_

“Your ice cream is melting,” Blaine says suddenly, and Kurt looks down and… Yep, it’s dripping onto his hand.

 _Great. Just perfect. Totally smooth_. They didn’t even grab any napkins. He blushes, leaning down to lick the melted cheesecake ice cream from his fingers. 

Of course, he doesn’t miss the way Blaine’s eyes linger.


	23. Chapter 23

“You know, I’ve never actually had cookie dough ice cream.”

They’re still sitting in Blaine’s car, even though they’re parked almost right in front of Kurt’s house. The porch light is on but Kurt knows his dad is _at least_ upstairs. Kurt’s never broken his curfew and he’s so suddenly thankful for his clean slate.

Although he’s pretty sure that Carole has something to do with it, too. Maybe he’ll take her shopping on Sunday as a thank you.

“You cannot be serious.” Blaine is angled towards him, still working his way slowly through his ice cream scoop and staring incredulously at Kurt over it.

“I don’t like it when my ice cream has stuff in it,” Kurt says with a dismissive shrug but Blaine is still gaping at him.

“But you’ve never even _had_ it, Kurt. You can’t hate something you’ve never tried.”

“That is very untrue. I’ve never been to a monster truck rally, but I’m pretty sure I’d hate it.”

 

Blaine’s mouth cracks in a smile.

“Come on, it’s _ice cream_ , remember?” Blaine throws his earlier words back at him and and Kurt flushes. “You should try it.” Blaine leaned in and tilted his cone forward. “I’ll even try yours. _Tete-à-tete_.”

“…I don’t think you used that right. Did you mean _quid pro quo_?” Kurt smirks at him and Blaine flushes, shrugging.

“I’ve never been good with French.”

“Quid pro quo is Latin, Blaine.”

“Okay, so I’m not so good with _languages_ and—hey! Deflecting!” Blaine accuses, his aghast mouth quickly shifting into a smile. Kurt grins into his ice cream.

“You caught me. But that—wait, you’ve never tried cheesecake ice cream? Blaine, you _work_ there.”

“You say that like it means I’ve tried every flavor.”

Kurt levels him with a gaze.

“…I haven’t had the butter pecan? But, I can’t eat pecans.”

“Noted. Seriously, though? Do you have something against cheesecake?” Can Kurt date someone who doesn’t like cheesecake?

“Well, I’ve never _had_ it but—”

“You’ve never _had_ it?” Oh my _god_ , how is Blaine _human_?

_It would explain so much, it really would_ .

“It just never really appeal—”

“Blaine, do not finish that sentence, please do not finish that sentence.” Kurt holds his hands out as if they will somehow stop the words and Blaine’s eyes widen in surprise. It takes Kurt a moment to realize exactly what he’s doing and he blushes, leaning back against the car door and staring down at his ice cream cone. “I take cheesecake very seriously,” he murmurs, trying to turn it into a joke.

But how can Blaine not find cheesecake _appealing_?

“Apparently. I think that’s reason enough.”

Kurt looks up, eyebrows drawn in confusion.

“To what?”

“To try it.”

Kurt wonders if the _because you like it_ is as unsaid as he thinks it is or if maybe he’s just projecting. Probably projecting. Then again, Blaine seems to have weird ways of showing his intentions. Building Kurt a waterfall? Eating cheesecake? Kurt isn’t sure he could really project things so adorably ridiculous.

“Come on, trade with me.” Blaine makes a grabby motion with his free hand and Kurt laughs, holding out his own cone. Their fingers brush and Kurt can feel the tingling sensation all the way up his spine. He wishes there was a way to bottle the way Blaine touching him makes him feel.

“Make sure you get a chunk of cookie dough, otherwise there’s no point to this.”

“And make sure you savor it and hate yourself because cheesecake is amazing and you’ve lived this long without it.”

“You’re really not going to let up on this, are you?”

“Not until you admit that I’m right.” Kurt raises an eyebrow in challenge and Blaine just laughs, shaking his head.

“On three?”

“Seriously? We’re doing a count down?”

“One—”

“We could both just take a bite.”

“Two—”

“Oh my god.”

“Three—”

Kurt takes a bite out of the ice cream and immediately regrets it, jerking backwards at the sudden freezing ache attacking his upper teeth. He crushes his lips together, hand lifting to flap uselessly near his cheek.

“Bit with your teeth?” Blaine asks, smiling over at him and Kurt levels him with a glare.

“It’s _gritty_ ,” Kurt says, once the feeling has returned to his mouth.

“That’s not how you say delicious.”

“That’s because I’m not calling it delicious.” He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, wishing he had water to get rid of it. It’s not that Kurt doen’t like cookie dough; he eats it enough when he bakes cookies after all. But this is mass produced, fake cookie dough. And it’s _gritty_. He makes another face before he realizes that Blaine is still steadily licking Kurt’s cheesecake ice cream.

“I see someone got something out of this deal.” Kurt feels a rush of satisfaction. Blaine hadn’t even given cheesecake a chance and _of course_ he likes it.

“Shhh, I’m having relations with your ice cream.”

Kurt laughs, mainly because Blaine really just used the word ‘relations.’

“Yes, well, give it back.” Kurt reaches for his cone but Blaine jerks away from him. Kurt furrows his eyebrows and reaches again and— “Oh my god, you are such an ice cream thief. Give it back!”

“No, it’s mine now.” Blaine laughs, moving away as Kurt reaches over him, trying not to drip cookie dough ice cream on him or Blaine and still trying to grab his own cone.

“Oh my god, _Blaine_.”

It becomes a game, both of them laughing as Blaine maneuvers away from Kurt’s attempts to snatch his ice cream cone back. Kurt’s laughing so hard he has to catch his breath, his fingers curling on Blaine’s shoulder to keep him from falling and—oh. He blinks, looking down, because he doesn’t remember getting this close to Blaine _at all_. But here they are, Blaine’s smile still sitting goofily on his lips and Kurt having a much harder time catching his breath then he should.

Blaine’s gaze flicks down to Kurt’s lips.

_He already kissed me once_ .

It’s not like kissing wouldn’t be okay. Blaine _did_ kiss him earlier, that must mean that he _wants_ to kiss Kurt… right? Why is it suddenly so hot?

_Oh, fuck it_ .

Before he can lose his nerve, Kurt leans down and kisses Blaine.

_Oh, okay, wow, this is even better the second time_ .

Blaine lets out a small gasp of surprise, but Kurt can feel him relax into the kiss, warm fingers sliding up to cup his cheek and Kurt can’t help himself from pressing down more insistently. _God_ , he should have kissed Blaine that first day if he could have felt this _sooner_. Kurt slides his own fingers to the slope of Blaine’s neck tentatively, feeling his own skin flush at the pleasant warmth of Blaine’s.

Kurt really has no idea what he’s doing. He hasn’t really kissed anyone before, and it certainly hasn’t been _him_ doing the kissing. Oh god, he _kissed_ Blaine. This is so much more terrifying than Blaine kissing _him_. Has Blaine kissed other boys before? _Wow, no, don’t think about that_. Oh god, what if Kurt is doing it wrong? What if he’s bad at it? What if—

Blaine’s mouth parts a bit and Kurt feels warm breath against his lower lip and _holy mother of god_. He feels the tremor wrack all the way through his body and shifts back slightly, his breath coming out shakily and he’s staring at Blaine suddenly and watching as his eyes flutter open. It’s so quiet in the car that Kurt is _sure_ Blaine can hear his heartbeat.

“It seems that keeps happening,” Blaine mutters, his voice slightly deeper than it had been during their light hearted teasing. Kurt flushes slightly, dropping his eyes and then peeking up at Blaine again.

“I think maybe it should keep happening,” Kurt whispers and then Blaine’s lips are against his again, fingers sliding into the back of his hair. He makes a noise in the back of his throat (because his _hair_ ) but it quickly disappears as Blaine sucks on his lower lip and _fuck_ Blaine is _good_ at this.

_Wait, no, where are you going?_

Kurt whimpers without meaning to, feeling his neck heat as he realizes that _he_ just made that sound, and he goes to chase Blaine’s lips when Blaine suddenly says, “ice cream!”

Kurt blinks.

“What?”

 _Wow_ , okay, what happened to his voice?

“Our… Um, the, ice cream is probably going to melt all over us and that is a really nice shirt and I’d hate for you to ruin it.”

Oh right. The ice cream. Kurt looks at the cone that is nearly dangling out of his loose hand now and they are _really_ lucky that Blaine noticed something.

“I guess next time we should rethink ice cream if we plan on kissing,” Kurt mutters and then stills immediately because, no, _no_ , he had not meant to say that. But Blaine is looking up at him with a hint of surprise in his eyes, the corner of his lips twitching into a smile.

“Yeah, okay,” he murmurs. “Next time.”

 _Next time_. Kurt swallows another whimper. Blaine’s eyes flick away and he frowns.

“Your curfew is at midnight, right?”

“Yeah,” Kurt breathes out and Blaine frowns again before looking up at Kurt.

“Then I guess I better walk you to your door.”

Kurt can’t help but feel disappointed, but he reminds himself that he’s seeing Blaine _again_ tomorrow. It certainly helps to lift his moods.

“Here, I can throw these away for us—” Kurt offers as they head up the walk and Blaine offers them reluctantly. “Blaine, they’re just soggy cones filled with melted ice cream.” He’s surprised he’s even _touching_ them.

“But it’s a _waste_ of soggy cones filled with melted ice cream.”

Kurt huffs out a laugh.

“You’re ridiculous.”

They come to a standstill beneath the porch light and Kurt wishes he wasn’t holding a stack of half eaten ice cream cones in one of his hands because it _really_ isn’t romantic. But Blaine grabs his free hand anyways, holding it low between them and sweeping his thumb over Kurt’s knuckles.

It certainly makes Kurt stop caring about the ice cream cones.

“Tonight was…” Kurt closes his mouth because how does he even _begin_ to describe what tonight was?

“Yeah,” Blaine agrees quietly, smiling shyly at Kurt and Kurt smiles back.

“So, I’ll… See you tomorrow?”

Blaine’s eyes perk as if he’d forgotten, and he nods.

“Yeah, absolutely. I’ll… Text you the address and time?”

“Sounds perfect.”

They look at each other, smiling and Blaine looks about as dopey as Kurt _feels_. He knows that he should be saying goodnight and heading inside, but the idea of not holding Blaine’s hand is slightly miserable.

He peeks down at Blaine’s watch and what he can see of the time before giving a little sigh.

“Time for this Cinderella to turn into a fabulously coiffed pumpkin,” Kurt says lightly, swinging their joined hands gently between them.

“I’m sure all the other pumpkins are very jealous.” Blaine grins at him.

Kurt steps in, hesitates a moment, and then darts in to kiss Blaine on the cheek. He can see the way Blaine’s eyes raise in surprise and he almost giggles—almost—because they were just _kissing_ in his car after all.

“Happy birthday,” Kurt whispers, because it’s after midnight now. Blaine’s face splits into a bright grin that makes something in Kurt’s chest light and fluttery. Blaine doesn’t say anything, just turns his head those few inches and catches Kurt’s mouth in another kiss.

It’s short, and chaste, but Kurt is pretty sure he forgets to breathe anyways.

“Goodnight.”

Their hands slip apart and Kurt stands in his doorway as Blaine walks backwards, smiling at him the whole way. When Blaine finally turns to get into his car, Kurt slips inside, his back falling against the door as it clicks shut behind him. He’s smiling so wide his _cheeks_ hurt and his lips feel like they’re _buzzing_ and he wonders how on earth this happened to him.

It feels like a dream. And if Kurt wasn’t so opposed to potentially marring his skin, he would totally pinch himself right now.

As it is, squealing into his pillow sounds like the perfect way to end the night.


	24. Chapter 24

Kurt is quickly coming to realize that Blaine Anderson is a lot more than the boy who does their yard work. Well, a cute, sweet, funny, charming, adorable, endearing, handsome, sexy (there have to be some adjectives he’s missing) boy, but there’s more even than _that_.

He comes to this conclusion late Saturday morning when he pulls up in front of a house that makes his own home comparable to a shack. Well, maybe not _that_ extreme, but it certainly makes the Hudson-Hummel house seem humble and cozy. Kurt is trying not to stereotype Blaine—he knows what it’s like to be stereotyped and he might be judgmental but he _does_ try—but at the same time it doesn’t add up in his head. He checks the address with the one Blaine had texted him three times, but it’s right.

Kurt just can’t put together why someone who lives in a house like _that_ would need to work three jobs.

Thankfully, he’s a few minutes early and so, despite his uncertainty, he is standing on the Anderson’s doorstep and ringing the bell promptly at eleven. It’s loud, like the chime of a clock tower, and it makes something quite like intimidation settle at the base of Kurt’s spine. He almost expects a maid or a butler when the door opens but the last thing he feels is disappointment when Blaine is standing on the other side.

There’s a smile forming on Kurt’s face before he can think to stop it. Blaine isn’t quite as dressed up as he had been the night before, but his striped shirt is form fitting and made of a soft cotton that Kurt yearns to touch while his white jeans hug his thighs and are, adorably, high waters. Kurt finds himself surprised at Blaine’s bare feet, not because he’s vehemently _against_ bare feet or anything but because it seems so out of place in this behemoth of a house.

It doesn’t occur to him that he’s been eyeing Blaine up and down for who _knows_ how long until he’s looking at Blaine’s face again and sees the faint color in his cheeks. Kurt tears his gaze away, biting his lip and then shrugging as if that will somehow explain the situation away.

“Hi,” Blaine says, the smile tacked on at the end less shy than it is purely happy; it makes Kurt’s stomach flutter in a way that is not altogether unpleasant. He takes a deep breath to calm himself, trying to push away the thoughts that have suddenly crowded to the forefront of his mind ( _we went on a date, we held hands, we kissed, oh my god we_ ** _kissed_** _, what does that mean? are we dating? what do I do? should I hug him? do I kiss him hello? what are the rules here?_ ) and returns Blaine’s smile just as easily.

But before he’s able to reply, Blaine darts forward and presses a kiss quickly to Kurt’s cheek.

Oh.

Okay.

Kurt’s almost positive that a look of surprise is stuck on his face and he can only hope that it’s _pleasant_ surprise. His lips part and he feels the urge to touch his cheek as if the kiss is something tangible that he can hold and treasure forever. He feels a little dazed with it all—it’s not like it’s something he’s going to be able to adjust to quickly, if at all. He simply blinks at Blaine, eyes still wide with wonder, and almost misses the way Blaine’s grin has taken on a more sheepish aspect.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m being rude. Come in.” He steps back and gestures Kurt in with a sweep of his arm. Kurt shifts his grip on the bag he’s carrying and walks in, eyes drawn to the high ceiling of the entryway and the gorgeous chandelier high above his head. There’s a ‘wow’ on his lips but it doesn’t fall; instead he turns in small circles, taking everything in.

“What’s in the bag?” Blaine asks, drawing Kurt’s attention back. He looks more nervous now and it brings a slight frown to Kurt’s lips.

“Aside from what you told me to bring,” Kurt says, drawing the paper bag closer to him, “it’s a surprise.”

Blaine’s eyebrows perk in interest and Kurt smiles.

Except now that he’s there and in the house and with _Blaine_ , he isn’t entirely sure what he’s supposed to do now.

“Would you… Like a tour?” Blaine asks, as if sensing Kurt’s distress. The thing is, Kurt _would_ like a tour, but he also knows that today isn’t the day for that.

“It’s _your_ birthday, Blaine, what would you like to do?” Kurt turns the decision back on Blaine and he fidgets slightly; maybe he hadn’t thought today out very far either.

“Um… I’d like to know what’s in the bag?” Blaine says, his voice lilting up hopefully at the end and Kurt laughs.

“Nice try, but all shall be revealed in due time.” There’s nothing too amazing in the bag, but Kurt had only about ten hours to pull anything together and seven of those had been spent sleeping.

“Are your parents here?”

The house is strangely quiet except for what sounds like the ticking of a clock (which Kurt can’t see anywhere in the entryway and it’s just the wrong side of eerie). But maybe a house so big easily hides noise.

“Oh.”

Kurt looks back over to Blaine and sees him shifting his weight as if he’s uncomfortable.

“No. They aren’t.”

Kurt’s eyebrows raise as his eyes widen. Blaine’s parents aren’t  _here?_ _Oh god, what does this mean? Am I supposed to do something? Does Blaine expect me to do something? Oh god we just kissed yesterday I am not ready for_ **_anything_ ** .

But then he thinks, beneath his thin layers of panic, about the fact that Blaine’s parents left him home alone on his birthday.

“We don’t really do birthday’s in our family. I get a gift and that’s about it.” Blaine looks away and it’s an obvious signal that that’s all they’ll be saying on the subject. Kurt rolls the handles of the bag in his hand and then sets his shoulders.

“Show me where your kitchen is?” Kurt asks, and Blaine’s eyes pop up.

“Oh, right, I’m sorry, are you—”

“Blaine.” Kurt dips his head slightly until he’s looking right in Blaine’s eyes. Because, yes, this boy makes him positively melty on the inside but if Kurt doesn’t at least try to resemble a person at some point in the near future Blaine probably isn’t going to want to date him.

Because no one wants to date a melty pile of smitten goo no matter how fabulously it’s dressed.

“You don’t have to keep apologizing, okay? But I asked because I have to put some things in your fridge—although I could go for some water.”

Blaine doesn’t answer, just smiles, and then goes to lead Kurt through an archway. As Blaine passes him, though, Kurt reaches out and catches his hand. Even the boldness of the action makes his heart stutter, but maybe it’s just something he’ll have to get used to. Maybe spending time with Blaine means that his heart will never beat quite like it used to—it’s a change he’s very willing to accept.

Blaine turns to look at him, eyes open wide and blinking at Kurt curiously. Kurt hesitates, just for a moment, eyes darting down to where his hand is curled around Blaine’s. It’s rather amazing how he can be so wonderstruck by something like holding hands, but he is. When he glances up again, he moves in quickly and pecks a kiss on Blaine’s lips.

“Happy birthday,” Kurt says softly before pulling back. He’d said it the night before but it hadn’t really counted and, really, there isn’t such a thing as a limit to how many times he can say happy birthday to Blaine. And if there is, well, it’s a _stupid_ limit anyways. Blaine is staring at him and Kurt wonders if it’s a pretty good imitation of how he himself had looked after Blaine had kissed his cheek.

But in a matter of seconds, Blaine is beaming and lacing their fingers together.

“Come on.”

And Kurt follows after him.


	25. Chapter 25

"I can't believe you made me cupcakes."

Kurt shrugs, smiling in the way he does when he's pleased with himself. If he'd had time to make a cake, he would have, but it was better to come with perfectly frosted cupcakes than with a huge chunk of cake. Then again, Kurt can't help but wonder if Blaine would have been just as happy with that.

"It's your birthday, Blaine. Of course I made you cupcakes." Kurt bops Blaine's shoulder with his own and Blaine turns and beams at him—it's totally worth not getting enough sleep if it makes Blaine look that happy.

"You say that, but you still wouldn't let me eat one," he pouts.

"It's not even noon, Blaine. Have you even eaten lunch yet?"

Blaine laughs at that and Kurt frowns, looking affronted, but as soon as Blaine notices he moves to touch Kurt's arm as if to reassure him. It doesn't work quite as intended, but it does seem to sap all of Kurt's attention.

"I didn't mean to laugh." He pauses. "Obviously, but you're just… You're adorable, did you know that?"

Kurt smiles and looks down, biting his lower lip to keep his grin from taking over his entire face. Blaine has said that certain things Kurt's done have been cute, but… It probably shouldn't make him react the way he's reacting, but it _is_. People don't find him adorable. It's probably one of the last words most people think of when they think of him.

He looks back at Blaine again only to see that Blaine is staring rather obviously at Kurt's lips.

"What?" He asks and he wonders if he'll always blush this way when Blaine looks at him like _that_. God, he really hopes not.

"It's just… Very distracting when you do that." Blaine moves to close the gap between them and Kurt's breath catches in anticipation, but then Blaine blinks, clearing the look in his eyes. He doesn't move away, his hands instead moving to find Kurt's and lace with them.

"Just so we're clear," Blaine begins and Kurt's stomach twists in a horribly uncomfortable way. Dread seems to wash cold all over him and he waits for the other shoe to drop: _I don't want anything serious, I'm not looking for a boyfriend, last night was fun but maybe we should just be friends?_ "Even though my parents aren't here, I don't… Expect anything from you, okay?"

Kurt blinks in surprise.

"What?" He manages, his voice so small he sort of hates himself for it.

"Kurt… I really, _really_ care about you." Their fingers lace together and Kurt is surprised he can hear anything over the way blood seems to be rushing past his ears. "I don't want to mess this up. I didn't invite you over today because… I mean, I like kissing you, I _really_ like kissing you and I hope that it's, um, something I can… Continue to do. In the future. If you're comfortable with that, because I want you to know that I'd never—"

Blaine's words die on Kurt's lips, their mouths pressed firmly together. Kurt still feels so new to this kissing thing but it's like his body knows what to do as long as Blaine is there to react to it. When they pull back they're both a little breathless and if Blaine is looking slightly flushed Kurt's sure that he is as well.

"I really like kissing you, too," Kurt admits, his voice low, and there's a thrill to admitting something that feels like it's never supposed to be said out loud. He searches Blaine's eyes for a moment, thinking of all the things he'd just said, and decides that now's as good a time as any to dive in and just _ask_. "Blaine, are—"

But Blaine suddenly has a finger to Kurt's lips and he falls silence.

"Not yet, okay?" He looks at Kurt so earnestly that Kurt can only nod. "Our first kiss might not have gone to plan, but this will."

Kurt can't help but smile.

"You have plans?" He asks once Blaine's pulled his hand back, and Blaine smiles.

"Lots of plans," he whispers conspiratorially, and there's a tension in the air as the idea hangs between them and all Kurt can do is let out a breathy, "oh?"

But then Blaine's hand is sliding along the side of Kurt's face slowly, warm and gentle as they curl around the shape of his cheek. His eyes flutter closed expectantly and he tilts his face into Blaine's touch, waiting.

"This is okay, right?"

Kurt smiles wryly, raising an eyebrow and cracking open an eye to look at Blaine.

" _Blaine_."

And Blaine chuckles and nods.

"Right."

Kurt barely has his eyes closed again before Blaine's lips are pressing against his; it isn't like the peck Kurt had given him when he'd gotten there or the kiss he'd used to make Blaine stop talking.

Blaine's lips are pliant against his, soft and warm and so, _so_ good. He can feel the damp brush of Blaine's breath as their lips slide together, the unfamiliar drag against his lower lip as Blaine changes the angle and Kurt feels like his knees are going to go weak. Blaine is directing the kiss, his hand guiding Kurt through it and Kurt _needs_ to grab hold of something before he collapses or melts or _something_.

His fingers close around Blaine's hips without him registering it, gripping tightly as he turns his head into the kiss and holds his own against the pressing insistence of Blaine's mouth. There's a sound— _oh god, a_ ** _moan_** —but Kurt isn't sure if it came from him or from Blaine, only that now Blaine is holding Kurt's face in both of his hands and trying to push himself even closer and—

Kurt hisses as his back collides with a wall and Blaine jerks away, eyes blinking quickly and clearing the dazed and confused expression lingering there. They stare at each other for a moment, eyes wide, and Blaine looks suddenly so ashamed of himself.

So Kurt laughs, letting his head fall forward onto Blaine's shoulder—he can feel the tension leave Blaine's body and he realizes that he's still holding onto Blaine's hips. There isn't enough room to snap them back, but he relaxes his grip at least (besides, touching Blaine is… It's nice).

"Was that part of your plans?" Kurt asks and the huskier tone to his voice surprises him. Blaine's shoulder shakes with a slight chuckle.

"Not exactly."

"I wouldn't mind it becoming part of your plans," Kurt says, and he's still for a moment before he feels the warm and wonderful presence of Blaine's hand against his lower back. His thumb moves up and down, in circles—it's soothing.

"I'll see what I can do," Blaine murmurs, his mouth so close to Kurt's ear he shudders. "But come on."

He takes a step back, his hands touching at the bend in Kurt's elbows and then sliding down until their fingers are lacing—Kurt shivers with the sensation.

"Where are we going?" He asks, trying to regain a semblance of coherence after he'd just had his breath kissed out of him.

"I didn't ask you to bring swim trunks for no reason, Kurt."

Blaine's face lights up with excitement and Kurt feels a heavy, sinking feeling that drags his head down from the kissing clouds.

 _Blaine cannot be serious_.


	26. Chapter 26

Blaine is absolutely serious.

And nothing Kurt tries to say dissuades him.

"I burn really easily!"

"It's okay, that's what sunscreen is for."

"The smell of chlorine gives me a headache!"

"It's a salt water pool."

" _Blaine_."

"It's my birthday."

And he'd _pouted_ at Kurt and that is just in no way fair. That's obviously some form of cheating. But it had also ended up with Kurt herded into the guest bathroom with his bag and a sense of doom hanging over his shoulders.

He doesn't do swimming. He doesn't do _sun_. It is so unfair for Blaine to use his adorable face and his birthday against Kurt this way.

"Kurt?" Blaine calls through the door following two brisk knocks. "Are you done?"

_No. Shit_.

How long had he been standing there trying to think of a way out of this?

"No!" He calls back, his voice a little shrill. He coughs, clearing his throat, and tries again. "I-I'll be out in a minute!" He waits a moment and then sighs, beginning the meticulous process of removing and folding all of his clothing. With each inch of skin that's revealed, Kurt feels more and more self conscious and more and more aware of _where_ he is and _what_ he's doing.

It's after he's slipped into his gunmetal grey swim trunks and refusing to look at himself in the mirror that he fully understands the reality of _being topless_. His arms wrap around himself instinctively.

"Blaine!" He calls through the door, and is surprised by the immediate "yes!" that calls back. Has Blaine been outside the door _the whole time?_ Why does that make the last five minutes so much more embarrassing? "Um…" _What am I asking for again?_ "Can I have a towel?"

"I have one for you," Blaine says with a few more knocks to the door and he sounds quite pleased with himself. Kurt rolls his eyes, shaking his head, and then steps away from the door. He opens it a crack and sticks his hand out.

"Towel please."

"Kurt." Blaine laughs. "Just come out."

"Towel _please_." Kurt flails his hand about until he feeds the telltale feel of terrycloth on his fingers. As soon as it's safely in the bathroom, he snaps the door shut and then unfurls the towel. It's a lovely navy blue with white stripes, so at least it doesn't clash horribly with his swimsuit. It could have been worse—he knows for a fact their beach towels are covered in cartoon characters or are garishly patterned.

"Um, Kurt?"

He quickly wraps the towel over his shoulders and feels better that it obscures his entire upper body. There's still his legs, but Blaine _has_ seen him in shorts and— _oh god I don't have shoes_.

"Kurt?"

He really needs to get out of the bathroom now before Blaine starts to think he has some sort of horrible problem.

He tentatively opens the door, hands keeping the towel around him like a cape, and then stepping into the hallway. He doesn't even consider meeting Blaine's eyes, fingering the edge of the towel and staring down at his own toes.

"I forgot shoes," he says, simply, quietly, and Blaine says nothing at all. Despite the fact that Kurt's chest is resolutely covered, he can't help but fidget, shifting his weight from foot and foot and trying to fight the humiliated blush that is seeping down from his face and neck to spread across his chest.

_Just perfect_.

The silence is absolutely oppressive, curling around Kurt like a constant reminder of all of his imperfections and insecurities. He should have held his ground better. He should have told Blaine he's allergic to pool water or _something_. But instead there's this; it's not just that Kurt values his skin and that every inch of it he reveals exposes another inch to damaging sunlight, but it also exposes those inches of skin to scrutiny.

He just hadn't expected that scrutiny from _Blaine_ , of all people.

When it's become too much, Kurt finally looks up, steeling himself for whatever is about to come next—disappointment? regret? rejection?—with his hands curled tight into terrycloth. Only, he finds none of those things there. Blaine is simply staring at him, mouth a little open and eyes a bit wider than normal, and, while Kurt does pull his towel tighter around himself, he feels a thrill shoot up his spine at the same time.

"Blaine?" He hedges, carefully, quietly, and he watches as Blaine snaps back to attention, eyes blinking rapidly and focusing. Blaine blushes, honey skin suddenly rosy, and Kurt has the urge to lean in and brush his lips against the apple of Blaine's cheek (and is still unused to the fact that he could actually do just that).

"Sorry," Blaine says, clearing his throat. "Sunscreen?" He holds up a bottle, but Kurt responds with a sheepish smile and pulls out one of his own. "I thought you were unprepared?"

"I was. But it's also summer," Kurt responds, dismissively. "I don't leave the house without sunblock." It occurs to Kurt, then, that he should have applied the sunblock in the safety of the bathroom, where the only person who could see his bare shoulders would be his own reflection. Would it be weird to go back in there and lock the door?

"Do you… Need help?" Blaine looks as nervous about the question as Kurt suddenly feels, because letting Blaine helps means letting Blaine _see_. "You—it would go faster, and I understand if you'd rather do it yourself, but it must not be easy reaching your own back and I'd hate for you to get sunburned on my account. It's just an offer, like I said, I understand if you prefer I didn't…"

Blaine's rambling. It reminds Kurt of, well, _himself_ , because he tends to ramble when he's nervous and— _oh_. Blaine is _nervous_. He's nervous, and flushed, and worked his fingers through his hair and over the back of his neck, eyes darting around and never settling.

"You're right, though," Kurt butts in, cutting Blaine off and simultaneously surprising himself. "It… It would be faster, and then I'd know I didn't miss any spots." Kurt hardly has to deal with putting sunscreen on his back—he's _never_ shirtless, and fear buzzes in his stomach at the idea of him being shirtless in front of _Blaine_.

Blaine, who is also wonderfully, gloriously, _deliciously_ shirtless, and how could Kurt ever compare with that?

His shoulders slump, resigned, and he holds out the bottle of his skin regime approved sunblock for Blaine to take. Then, with a deep breath (for strength, for courage, for not saying something _stupid_ ), he lets the towel pool around his waist and hang in the crook of his elbows. It's that same, horrible silence, but Kurt doesn't wait so long to meet Blaine's gaze this time. Kurt's still just as hesitant, still just as shy, and still just as surprised to see that dazed looking awe that has slackened Blaine's features.

Except for his eyes, which trail up and down with so much purpose that Kurt feels like their paths are burning into his skin.

"You—" Blaine says, but stops, shaking his head, and he's smiling, teeth catching his lip and drawing Kurt's attention to Blaine's _lips_ , lips that Kurt has _kissed_ and wants to kiss again (and again, and again, and _again_ ). A part of Kurt's mind nags at Blaine's unfinished sentence, but the rest is flooded with the closeness of Blaine moving to stand behind him and the way Kurt can feel Blaine's body heat against his back; it's so warm in the air-conditioned kept house that Kurt feels the pull to lean back into it and have it swallow him whole.

Instead, there's the click of a cap that is sharp enough to cut through his clouded mind and bring Kurt back to the situation. Back to the sudden shock of cold to his back, and then Blaine's, "oh, sorry!" as Kurt's shoulders tense.

Kurt had only thought about the _seeing_ , but he'd forgotten completely about the touching. The cold sunscreen is warmed quickly by Blaine's large, warm hands—even through the slick material, Kurt can feel the roughness of his fingers and palms, worn there by yard work and who-knows-what else. Blaine works slowly, from the nape of Kurt's neck and over around his shoulders, down the muscles of his back and the ridge of his spine, right down to the line of Kurt's swimsuit. Kurt nearly has to shove his fist in his mouth, is _embarrassed_ by the sounds he nearly makes and just manages to stop by clamping down on his lip.

It's just sunscreen. It's just, at the base of it all, a back rub.

Except that Kurt has never been touched this way before, most certainly not by a boy who likes to kiss Kurt (and who Kurt likes to kiss back).

"I think that should do it." Blaine's voice is low and Kurt can feel the tickle of his breath along his hairline. _God_ , he wants to lean back and have Blaine's arms slip around him and hold him close. He wants sweet kisses against his shoulder and soft whispers in his ear, and spooning until he falls asleep feeling warm, and safe, and wonderful.

But it's a fleeting thought, gone as Blaine steps back and hands the sunscreen back to Kurt—he still has to do his chest, and arms, and neck, and face, and _legs_ , and why do bathing suits require him to reveal so much _skin?_

"We have to let it set, right?"

_Oh, I could marry you right now_.

"…yeah," Kurt says back after too-long a pause, doubly embarrassed when his voice is higher than it normally is. But Blaine just smiles.

"Then I'm going to grab us a few things. Meet me in the kitchen? Do you remember how to get there?"

Kurt nods, holding the sunscreen close to his chest, and watches as Blaine walks away. Once he's cleared the hallway, Kurt slumps against the wall and _breathes_. He needs to remember to continue breathing properly, even when Blaine is that close, and _touching_ him, and Kurt's head is in a million different places at once.

He has a few minutes to collect himself now, and he has sunscreen to apply. He pops the bottle and warms it in his hands.


	27. Chapter 27

Blaine's backyard reminds Kurt of those Home & Garden magazines Carole keeps on the coffee table. It's large, and landscaped, and perfect for hosting, with a grill and a covered patio and a pool. Kurt is honestly a little surprised that he doesn't see a gazebo anywhere, but maybe it's hiding somewhere he just can't see from this angle.

Kurt almost asks Blaine is he had any part in it, but there's something that stops him. Maybe it's the care he's seen Blaine take with flowers, or how much he seems to truly enjoy gardening, because Kurt can't see any of that adoration in this backyard. It's beautiful, but it doesn't feel very inviting or used—it really does look as if it's been dragged from the pages of a magazine.

Blaine is in the water almost instantly, and he takes to it with the kind of enthusiasm he has for ice cream—with big grins and laughter and childish excitement. Kurt is half surprised that Blaine doesn't do a cannonball, with the way he runs into the water, disappearing almost instantly beneath the clear blue.

Kurt stands there, towel around his shoulders again, and eyes squinting against the glare of the sun (and thinking how horrible it is that he's forgotten his sunglasses) and watching as Blaine resurfaces. Kurt is reminded, instantly, of the day when Blaine had poured that water bottle over his hair. He thinks of the way the water had flown off of him as he'd shaken his head, the way it had _glistened_ (and Kurt wants to wince with the cliché of it all).

But seeing him come up out of the water now? With water clinging desperately to his hair as he pushes it back out of his face, the sun catching off every droplet that is set against his skin, his smile bright and beaming at Kurt?

 _I'm going to pass out_.

"What are you doing?" Blaine asks, swimming up to the edge of the pool near where Kurt is standing. "The water isn't _too_ cold, but it's not too warm, either. It's _just_ right."

"Okay, Goldilocks," Kurt mutters, more out of habit than to actually poke fun at Blaine—but Blaine grins at him, amused.

"So really?" Blaine's eyebrows raise, his expression expectant and adorably hopeful. "Are you coming in?"

"To the water?" Kurt asks, feeling stupid a moment later. "Why?"

"You can't really go swimming without getting in the water, Kurt."

"I… Don't really _do_ swimming." Isn't it enough that he put on his swimsuit and is outside? Kurt is perfectly content sitting on one of the many lounge chairs and watching as _Blaine_ swims.

"You said you would." Blaine is pouting again, and Kurt has to tell himself not to close his eyes to avoid seeing it.

"I—" _Fuck_. He sort of had relented before, but back then it had been about sunlight and showing skin and embarrassment. This time has more to do with how very little Kurt likes to get wet, unless, of course, it's under the steady pressure of a shower head.

"Can I at least convince you to sit with your legs in?"

 _Well_. That's not _so_ bad, Kurt argues, and it is unforgivably hot outside. So Kurt acquiesces, lowering himself carefully and sliding his legs into the water. Blaine was right—it's cool without being cold, and refreshing, and Kurt wants to spread water up his arms and over his shoulders to get some relief from the sun. Of course, if he does that, Blaine will just have a case against him as to why Kurt should get in the water.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Blaine asks, cocking his head to the side so that the sunlight can catch some of the water that stuck to Blaine's eyebrows and eyelashes.

"No," Kurt replies, a bit indignantly, but he forgets all about being stubborn when Blaine's—cold, wet—hand settles over his on the stone lining of the pool. Kurt stares at their hands, shivering at the way the water drips over his fingers and wrist, and then looks back at Blaine. He catches the strange look in Blaine's eyes almost immediately, responding to it with a quiet, tentative, "Blaine?"

And then Blaine's lips turn into a wolfish grin—he grabs fast to Kurt's hand, and tugs him straight into the water.

When Kurt surfaces, he's sputtering, having been unprepared for the sudden dunk underwater. After making sure he can breathe, his hands instantly fly to his hair (priorities)—his horribly wet, shapeless, _flat_ hair, and he is going to _kill_ Blaine Anderson.

"Blaine!" Kurt shucks the water out of his eyes, turning around until he sees Blaine a few feet away, hand pressed to his mouth—holding back giggles, instead of looking ashamed the way he _should_ be. "That—you—" Kurt makes a noise of frustration, fingers working furiously at his hair, but he knows it's a hopeless cause. He didn't even _think_ to bring any product with him, and what is he supposed to do _now?_

"Come on, Kurt." Blaine pushes water in Kurt's direction, a small wave that laps against Kurt's chest rather than something aggravating, like a splash. "It's not _that_ bad."

"Not that—" Kurt growls again, eyes narrowing and mouth thinning into a line. "You are lucky I do not break up with you on the spot, I—" Kurt's rant stops before it even gains steam, color draining from his face the moment he realizes what he said. Because he'd said "break up," as in him and Blaine, breaking up. But people can only break up if they're dating, and are him and Blaine dating? _Fuck fuck fuck fuck_.

"I-I mean…" How is he going to talk himself out of this one? The only thing he really wants to do is shove his fist in his mouth to keep himself from saying anything else. He does the second best thing, which is to press his lips together and stare at Blaine and hope that some sort of tsunami will overtake the pool and distract Blaine long enough that Kurt can come up with something to say. It's incredibly unlikely, but it's far more unlikely that Kurt will figure out _what the fuck to say_.

Blaine is staring right back at him, confusion plain on his face, but then a look of realization starts to dawn and— _no_ , Kurt had really preferred the confusion. Maybe if Blaine continued to think he was crazy or something, he wouldn't understand what Kurt had actually said.

"So—"

"I'm sorry." Kurt really should have shoved his fist in his mouth. "I just—I assumed, I'm sorry, you obviously—I was joking, as if I'd ever break up with you, that's—wait no, what I'm saying is that—" Why was it _so impossible for him to talk?_ "You can't break up with someone you're not dating." Wait, no, that's not right, either.

"So we're not dating?"

The look on Blaine's face shocks Kurt, but only because he looks so honestly _disappointed_.

"I—" Of course, now words seem to fail him. "I don't know?" Kurt doesn't know, he has no idea how any of this works, and doesn't Blaine know that?

…does Blaine know that?

"I've never had a boyfriend," Kurt explains, suddenly, and he feels so cornered and small and _unsure_ that he's pressed his back up against the wall of the pool. "I've never—I don't know what I'm doing."

And, much to Kurt's surprise, Blaine laughs. He honest-to-god laughs and Kurt can feel himself blush in humiliation, because obviously someone like _Blaine_ has had _dozens_ of boyfriends, and kisses, and _oh god_ , what if he's not a _virgin_ and Kurt _is_ , what does that _mean?_

"I haven't either."

_What?_

"What?"

"I… I haven't had a boyfriend, either, so." Blaine shrugs, glancing away and suddenly seeming just as young and unsure as Kurt himself feels. There's no reason for Blaine to lie, not that Kurt suspects him of it, but it seems so strange that they are both totally, honestly, completely clueless. Kurt can understand now why Blaine had laughed—it's absolutely ridiculous.

"I've always wanted one, though," Blaine says, voice quiet, and he's wading through the water and closer to Kurt. The impending proximity makes his heart thump wildly in his chest, like he's standing on the edge of a cliff and is moments from tumbling off it. He can't help but wonder what's waiting for him at the bottom.

"Me too." His voice drops quiet, sounding off the water strangely as Blaine closes the gap between them. Kurt sucks in a sharp breath as Blaine reaches for his hand beneath the surface, the motion tentative and hesitant, but Kurt is sure when he laces their fingers together—it's one of those things he feels like he'll always be sure about.

"I…" Blaine stops, wetting his lips, and he's staring at their joined hands beneath the water as if the sight of them somehow gives him courage. Kurt can understand that, because, while having Blaine this close makes his brain seem to melt until it lacks any useful purpose, it makes him feel _safe_. "I'd really like it if…" He pauses again, and Kurt is sure he isn't breathing as Blaine looks up and meets his eyes. "I really want you to be my first one."

Kurt tries to say yes, but his mouth just sort of hangs open, his throat working to squeeze out the words _yes, me too, I want you to be my first, of course I do, please be my boyfriend, I would love to be your boyfriend_. Instead, he makes a sharp, high-pitched noise, cheeks immediately coloring in embarrassment (and deepening as Blaine's nervous smile takes on a hint of affection).

And since Kurt can't seem to say anything, he'll just have to say yes in another one completely. He lifts his free hand, dragging water across Blaine's jaw and into his hair, and then pulls him close until they're kissing. It's short, and sweet, and tastes unfortunately like pool water and sunscreen. But it loosens Kurt's words, so that when he pulls back, he can press his damp forehead against Blaine's and whisper a very sure,

"Yes."


	28. Chapter 28

For awhile, Kurt undergoes an internal battle—being in the water vs. being close to Blaine. Blaine is very convincing, of course, with his lips and the way his fingers brush against the most random parts of Kurt (the back of his hand, the inside of his elbow,  the juncture of his neck) and draw forth shudders. But Kurt doesn't like pools—he doesn't like swimming, he doesn't like the way the sun reflects off the surface and into his eyes, and he hates the way pool water makes his skin feel. 

In the end, Kurt hauls himself back onto the stone decorating the edge of the pool, the surface hot beneath his bare skin. Instantly, he goes for his towel, wrapping it around his shoulders both for the sake of protecting himself from the sun and for modesty. He doesn't think about how he was nearly pressed up to Blaine, shirtless, because the near thought of it makes his head want to explode. Some things are just too much to think about.

"Are you at least going to put your legs back in?" Blaine asks, holding onto the edge as Kurt stands on a stretch of shaded cement so his feet don't burn.

"Because that went so well last time?"

Blaine folds his arms on the ledge, pillowing his chin and staring up at Kurt innocently.

"I promise I won't pull you in again."

"I think I'll play it safe anyways."

There's a lounge chair placed in the shady spot, provided by a large tree that even covers some of the pool as the sun sinks lower. Kurt sits down on it carefully, wishing he had another towel to cover his legs.

He's hardly settled when there's a splash, and when he looks up, Blaine is lifting himself out of the pool as well. Kurt can't help but stare at the way the water runs down his body, except then Blaine catches his gaze—it's a little different now, Kurt realizes, because… Because…

Blaine is his _boyfriend_ now, and Kurt has to suddenly bite down on his smile to stop from outright giggling. _Boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend_.

Kurt wants to look away, wants to duck his head and avert his eyes, but he doesn't—he doesn't _have_ to anymore, even if the urge is there. Because Blaine sees Kurt looking, and Blaine smiles, brighter than the sun, and looks back. It makes Kurt stomach erupt into a thousand butterflies, and his smile back is still cautious, still hesitant.

"Getting out?" He asks, tucking his ankles underneath the lounge chair.

"Well, I swim by myself all the time," Blaine admits, and _that's_ an image. "I invited you over to spend time with _you_ , so…"

Kurt feels a mixture of glee and guilt—glee, because Blaine _wants to spend time with him_ , but guilt because it's Blaine's birthday, and he'd wanted to go swimming, and Kurt couldn't indulge him on that one thing.

"I'm sorry." Kurt draws his mouth into a thin line and wonders how he's only been a boyfriend for less than an hour and already he's _horrible_ at it.

"Why?" Blaine tilts his head to the side, eyes honestly curious.

"It's your birthday, we should be—"

"Kurt." Blaine's movements are slow—still unsure, they're both unsure, both treading unknown waters—as he walks closer and then sits down next to Kurt on the chair. It's hot out, but Kurt can still feel the way the heat seems to zing back and forth between the proximity of their bare skin. It makes him feel a little light headed. "If you don't want to swim, I'm not going to… Resent you for it, or anything. If I wanted to do just what I wanted to do, why would I have invited you over?"

"But it's your birthday," Kurt points out, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"So? I wouldn't be enjoying myself if… If you weren't, also."

"You're a much better person than I am," Kurt begrudges, staring down at his knees, but then Blaine is picking up his hand, their fingers folding together in a way that's _too_ easy, _too_ soon. Sometimes it all seems too easy, but other times it seems harder than anything Kurt has ever tried to do before. Too fast, but too slow, too soon after waiting too long. It all makes Kurt feel pulled in a hundred different directions, like he might _explode_ , and he wonders why he wanted for this so long.

But he raises his eyes to find Blaine looking at him, eyes soft and warm and Kurt doesn't understand how Blaine can look at him that way—not sure if he'll ever be able to understand.

"I don't think that's true," is all Blaine says in return, and Kurt just wants to ask how Blaine can believe that when he knows _so little_ about Kurt. When they know so little about each other. "But we can do something else, unless you want to sit outside longer?"

"Like what?" Kurt asks, and he begins to play with Blaine's fingers, looking at them rather than the open expression on Blaine's face.

"We could… Watch TV, or movies. Listen to music, play board games—"

"Play board games?" Kurt teases, grinning, and his eyes flash up again to catch the flustered look on Blaine's face.

"Board games can be fun," he says, defensively, and Kurt laughs softly. "We could eat cupcakes…"

"Blaine Anderson!" Kurt admonishes with a gasp, looking up and shaking his head. "I told you no cupcakes until later."

"So it's my birthday, and we can do whatever I want to do, _except_ eat cupcakes when I want to?"

"Exactly."

It's kind of scary. Kurt knows their teasing, but at any moment it feels like maybe Blaine will take it wrong. What if Kurt says the wrong thing and Blaine decides he's not worth it? What if Kurt is really just being himself and he's just not good enough? His heart thuds painfully fast in his chest, and, _god_ , relationships are _horrible_.

"You're kind of a dictator," Blaine comments, eyes slightly narrowed, and the apologies start bubbling in Kurt's throat. But then Blaine dips forward—fast, as if going slowly will make him rethink doing it at all—and brushes his lips, warm and soft and fleeting, against Kurt's cheek, and just like that the worries recede and melt away. "What do you want to do?"

"…let's sit out here for awhile?" Kurt asks, unsurely. "We can talk."

"Just talk?" Blaine asks, as if he's a little surprised, or maybe even a little nervous.

"Just talk. I mean, we're…" Kurt gestures between them, feeling kind of helpless, and Blaine's face splits into a grin.

"Yeah," he chuckles out, both of them still too nervous to say _boyfriend_ now that they actually are.

"Yeah," Kurt agrees, his face feeling hotter. "And I just… I don't know what your favorite toy was as a child, or if you have any siblings, or your pet peeves, or your middle name, or—"

"Legos. An older brother. Too many to name all at once. And Devon."

Kurt just sort of stares at him, and Blaine stares back, eyebrows raised and expectant and… Yes, he definitely looks at least a tiny bit as nervous as Kurt feels.

"What's your favorite season?" Blaine shoots back, and Kurt nearly laughs, because are they really doing this?

"Fall?" Kurt's uncertainty turns his answer into a question, and he furrows his eyebrows. "No, wait, winter. No… Both?"

Blaine laughs.

"Both is an acceptable answer."

They're not even sitting on the lounge chair properly, but sitting on it properly would mean… Lying down. Together. Kurt swallows—he's not sure if he's at that point where he could do that without something horrible happening, like his skin bursting into flames. Still, Blaine bumps his bare knee into Kurt's and _does the thrill of their skin touching ever fucking wear off?_ A moment later, Blaine has moved closer, until their thighs are pressed together.

Kurt has to take a deep breath before his head is clear enough to think up a question.

"Favorite Audrey Hepburn movie?"

"I feel like this is a test."

"That's because it is."

Blaine laughs again, and Kurt can't temper down his smile. Blaine's laugh isn't exactly difficult to pull out, but it doesn't stop little blooms of happiness from growing in his chest.

"…After intense deliberation, I'm going to go with My Fair Lady."

"My Fair Lady is an acceptable answer," Kurt responds, mimicking Blaine's earlier tone until their shoulders are bumping together playfully. It feels so electric, but not… Uncomfortable. The air is charged, but at the same time things feel so natural. If Blaine hadn't kissed him in the parking lot last night, would they still be having this same conversation?

Kurt doesn't even hesitate in thinking that yes, yes they would.

"Favorite James Bond?"

"James… Seriously? Is _this_ a test?"

"Every question is a test," Blaine replies, his face set and very serious.

"Um…" Fuck, what was that one his dad made him watch that one time? "…Pierce Brosnan?"

"Wow, you failed. The acceptable answers were Sean Connery and Daniel Craig."

"I've only seen one!" And as soon as Kurt says it, he knows he's made a mistake. "Oh no, please don't—"

"It's my birthday," Blaine counters in a singsong, and then he's pulling Kurt up off the chair.

"I thought we were doing the talking thing?" Kurt tugs desperately as Blaine leads him back towards the house. "I gave you My Fair Lady even though the correct answer was obviously Breakfast at Tiffany's!"

"You can't pretend that you don't love My Fair Lady."

" _Blaine_."

"Stop acting like I'm toting you off to your execution. It's _just_ a James Bond marathon. Part one. We obviously can't get through all the movies in one day."

"Part _one?_ "

"Besides, young Sean Connery isn't too bad on the eyes."

Kurt is quickly coming to realize that there is a lot more to Blaine Anderson than he ever thought. Especially since _cruel and unusual torture_ is never a hobby he would have associated with his shiny, new boyfriend.


	29. Chapter 29

Kurt is not the sort of person who keeps things from his dad, but when he comes home from Blaine's that night and his dad asks if he had fun, Kurt says yes and leaves it at that. It's not that he doesn't _want_ to tell his dad about Blaine, and what Blaine is now, what they are now— _I have a boyfriend, I have a boyfriend_ , keeps sing-songing in his head—it's just that Kurt is new to this and he wants it to be the right time.

And maybe Kurt is a little scared of Blaine getting fired.

 _Okay_ , so there are _definitely_ some ulterior motives here, but… Just for a little while. It's not like Kurt plans on doing anything nefarious, but he's the only one home when Blaine comes by to do yard work and he kind of wants to revel in that a little longer before his dad comes down with things like _rules_ and _curfews_ and _keep the door open, Kurt_.

Not that Kurt's ever had a boyfriend and knows how his dad is going to react exactly, but he's seen a lot of teen movies.

He'll tell his dad, eventually, but for right now he's too far into the throes of burgeoning love. He lays down at night, touches his lips, and remembers the sweet way Blaine kissed him goodnight on the doorstep.

Even a James Bond marathon had been worth that.

*

And then it's Tuesday, and, despite a lot of texting and two phone calls, Kurt feels unprepared for seeing Blaine again. Sure, they're boyfriends now, but it still feels like everything could turn on its head and go wrong at any second. Kurt doesn't want to screw anything up, and it's really hard to know what you're doing when you've never done it before.

So he isn't sure if he should sit in the hammock again, or if he should invite Blaine inside, or if he should kiss him hello—he has absolutely no _idea_ what he's doing.

On top of that, now that he's actually _dating_ Blaine, it makes his wardrobe choices _that_ much more critical.

Then, it gets worse. Then, Kurt starts to remember how he's home alone and his _boyfriend_ is on his way over. Okay, they haven't done anything more than kiss—they haven't even really made out, not _really_ —and Blaine isn't that sort of boy… Is he? He isn't expecting anything from Kurt, is he? Because Kurt is so not ready for taking any further physical steps, this is his first relationship _ever_ , but what if Blaine _wants_ things? It's not like Kurt doesn't _want_ , but _wanting_ and actually _doing_ are completely different things.

What if something does happen? God, Kurt hasn't even told his _dad_ yet.

By the time Blaine is knocking on the door, Kurt feels like a ball of anxiety, wringing his hands and fussing with his hair and wondering if maybe he should have gone with that stylish graphic tee over the scoop neck, and completely freaking out about Blaine _being_ there.

"I don't know if I can do this," he says in a rush when he does pull the door open, and he watches as Blaine's big, happy grin fades into confusion, and then disappointment.

"What?" He asks, quietly, and Kurt keeps twisting his hands. It's hot out, and the air is washing warmly against Kurt's face as he stands in the doorway.

"I just… Blaine." Kurt looks down. "You're my first boyfriend—"

"I know," Blaine says quietly, and he reaches out and carefully takes one of Kurt's fidgeting hands. "And you're my first boyfriend," Blaine reminds him.

"I know, I just—I'm new at this. I don't… I don't know what I'm doing, or what I want, but I know there are certain things I'm not ready for, and—"

"Kurt." Blaine's other hand turns Kurt's chin up, and their eyes meet. Blaine looks honestly and thoroughly confused. "What are you trying to say? Are you…" Blaine swallows, and Kurt's eyes follow the movement of his throat. "Are you breaking up with me?"

"No," Kurt responds immediately, the word nearly tripping out of his mouth with how fast he says it. He shakes his head, eyes wide. "No, of course not, I just…" Kurt's eyes drop down, and then Blaine is giving his chin a little nudge and it makes Kurt smile a little bit (and, meet Blaine's eyes again). "I want to take this slow, okay?" He says, feeling his anxiety rear up like a horse about to kick him in the throat.

"Okay?" Blaine looks confused. "Kurt, we've only been dating for a few days." Blaine's grin comes back then, and his fingers skim absently along Kurt's jaw. "I want to take it slow, too."

"You do?" Kurt feels the anxiety get squashed under a swell of relief.

"Of course. I… I really like you, but please don't forget I'm new at this, too."

Kurt laughs then, short and quiet, and is cut off when Blaine dodges in and skims a sweet kiss against his lips that leaves Kurt's face hot.

"So hi," Blaine says when he pulls back, and he's so close that it makes the summer heat nearly unbearable. Kurt smiles at him, feels all of their fingers tangle together after Blaine drops his hand, and gives a small squeeze.

"Hi." He swings their hands, feeling ridiculous and embarrassed from his weird little freak out.

"I should, uh, probably start mowing the lawn now," Blaine chuckles, and Kurt bites his lip, and nods.

"Lemonade?"

Blaine's already taking a step back, their knotted hands stretching between them.

"Lemonade sounds great." Blaine is grinning at him, and Kurt hates himself for even thinking about it, but it really does give the sun a run for its money.

"Great."

It's only when Blaine nearly stumbles backwards that he finally turns around, laughing into the air, sweat already making the air at the nape of his neck curl. Kurt stands, gripping the door frame, staring after him and still appreciating his ass, even though, _wow_ , that's his _boyfriend's ass_ and Kurt probably has some inherit permission to stare at it now. The idea makes him giddy, and he doesn't let himself giggle until he hears the lawn mower start.

He can _so_ totally do this.


End file.
